Нора Робертс - Courting Catherine

Flustered, she pressed back against the wall. “I don't think you're the least bit sorry about what you did.”

He considered her a moment, the wide eyes, the tempting mouth. “I'm afraid you're right.”

As she stood, torn between delight and terror, the phone began to shrill. “I've got to get that.” Nimble as a greyhound, she streaked by him and out of the room.

He followed more slowly, surprised at himself. There was no doubt in his mind that she was as much victim of her aunt's fantasies as he. Another woman, certainly one with matrimony on her mind, would have smiled—or pouted. Would have slid her arms seductively around him—or held him sulkily away. But another woman would not have stood with her back planted against the wall as if facing a firing squad. Another woman would not have looked at him with big, helpless eyes and stammered.

Or looked so alluring while she did so.

C.C. snatched up the phone in her office, but her mind was blank. She stood, staring through the glass wall with the phone at her ear for ten silent

seconds before the voice through the receiver brought her back.

“What? Oh, yes, yes, this is C.C. Sorry. Is that you, Finney?” She let out a long, pent-up breath as she listened. “Did you leave the lights on again? Are you sure? Okay, okay. It might be the starter motor.” She ran a distracted hand through her hair and started to ease a hip down on the desk when she spotted Trent. She popped back up like a spring. “What? I'm sorry, could you say that again? Uh-huh. Why don't I come take a look at it on my way home? About six-thirty.” Her lips curved. “Sure. I always have a taste for lobster. You bet. Bye.”

“A mechanic who makes house calls,” Trent commented.

“We take care of our own.” Relax, she ordered herself. Relax right now. “Besides it's easy when there's the offer of an Albert Finney lob-stah dinner on the other end.”

There was a tug of annoyance he tried mightily to ignore. “How's the hand?”

She wriggled her fingers. “Fine. Why don't you hang your keys on the pegboard?”

He did so. “Do you realize you've never called me by name?” “Of course I have.”

“No, you've called me names, but never by my name.” He lifted a hand to gesture the thought away. “In any case, I need to talk to you.”

“Listen, if it's about the house, this really isn't the time or place.” “It isn't, precisely.”

“Oh.” She looked at him, feeling that odd little jolt in her heart. “I'm really getting backed up. Can it wait until you pick up your car?”

He wasn't used to waiting for anything. “It won't take long. I feel I should warn you, as I believe you're as unaware as I was, of your aunt's plans.”

“Aunt Coco? What plans?”

“The white-lace-and-orange-blossom type of plans.”

Her expression went from baffled to stunned to suspicion. “Marriage? That's absurd. Aunt Coco's not planning to be married. She doesn't even see anyone seriously.”

“I don't think she's the candidate.” He walked toward her, keeping his eyes on her. “You are.”

Her laugh was quick and full of fun as she sat on the edge of the desk. “Me? Married? That's rich.”

“Yes, and so am I.'

Her laughter dried up. Using the palms of her hands, she levered herself off the desk. When she spoke, her voice was very cool, with licks of temper beneath. “Exactly what are you implying?”

“That your aunt, for reasons of her own, invited me here not only to look over the house, but her four very attractive nieces.”

Her face went dead pale, as he now knew it did when she was desperately angry. “That's insulting.”

“That's a fact.”

“Get out.” She gave him one hard shove toward the door. “Get out. Get your keys, your car and your ridiculous accusations and get out.”

“Hold on and shut up for one minute.” He took her firmly by the shoulders. “Just one minute, and when I'm done if you still think I'm being ridiculous, I'll leave.”

“I know you're ridiculous. And conceited, and arrogant. If you think for one minute that I have—have designs on you—”

“Not you,” he corrected with a little shake. “Your well-meaning aunt. 'Why don't you show Trenton the garden, C.C.? The flowers are exquisite in the moonlight.'“

“She was just being polite.”

“In a pig's eye. Do you know how I spent my morning?” “I couldn't be less interested.”

“Looking through photo albums.” He saw the anger turn to distress and pressed on. “Dozens of them. You were quite the adorable child, Catherine.”

“Oh, God.”

“And bright, too, according to your doting aunt. Spelling bee champ in the third grade.”

With a strangled groan, she lowered to the desk again. “Not a single cavity in your mouth.”

“She didn't,” C.C. managed.

“Oh, that and more. Top honors in your auto mechanics class in high school. Using the bulk of your inheritance to buy this shop from your employer. I'm told you're a very sensible woman who knows how to keep her feet on the ground. Then again, you come from excellent stock and were well-bred.”

“Like a holstein,” she muttered, firing up.

“As you like. Naturally, with your background, brains and beauty, you'd make the right man the most excellent of wives.”

She was no longer pale, but blushing furiously. “Just because Aunt Coco's proud of me doesn't mean she's asking you to pick out a silver pattern.”

“After she finished relating your virtues and showing me the picturesquite lovely ones—of you in your prom dress.”

“My—” C.C. only shut her eyes.

“She began to ask me my views on marriage and children. Dropping rather large, heavy hints that a man in my position needs a stable relationship with a stable woman. Such as yourself.”

“All right, all right. Enough.” She opened her eyes again. “Aunt Coco often gets ideas in her head about what's best for my sisters and me. If she goes overboard.” C.C. set her teeth. “When she goes overboard, it's only because she loves us and feels responsible. I'm sorry she made you uncomfortable.”

“I didn't tell you this to embarrass you or to have you apologize.” Suddenly awkward, he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I thought it best if you knew the way her thoughts were headed before, well, something got out of hand.”

“Got out of hand?” C.C. repeated.

“Or was misunderstood.” Odd, he thought, it was usually so easy to lay the ground rules. He certainly couldn't remember fumbling before. “That is, after last night... I realize you've been sheltered to a certain degree.”

The fingers of C.C.'s good hand began to drum on the knee of her coveralls.

Perhaps he should start again. “I believe in honesty, C.C., in both my business and my personal relationships. Last night, between temper and the moonlight, we—I suppose you could say we lost control for a moment.” Why did that seem so pale and inadequate a description for what had happened? “I wouldn't want your lack of experience, and your aunt's fantasies to result in a misunderstanding.”

“Let me see if I get this. You're concerned that because you kissed me last night, and my aunt brought up the subject of marriage along with my baby pictures this morning, that I might get some wild idea in my head that I might be the next Mrs. St. James.”

Thrown off, he ran a hand over his hair. “More or less. I thought it would be better, certainly more fair, if I told you straight off so that you and I could handle it reasonably. That way you wouldn't—”

“Develop any delusions of grandeur?” she suggested.

“Don't put words in my mouth.”

“How can I? There's no room with your foot in there.”

“Damn it.” He hated the fact that she was absolutely right. “I'm simply trying to be perfectly honest with you so that there won't be any misunderstanding when I tell you I'm very attracted to you.”

She only lifted a brow, too furious to see that his own words had left him speechless. “Now, I take it, I'm supposed to be flattered.”

“You're not supposed to be anything. I'm merely trying to lay out the facts.”

“I'll give you some facts.” She shoved a hand into his chest. “You're not attracted to me, you're attracted to the image of the perfect and enviable Trenton St. James HI. My aunt's fantasies, as you call them, are a result of a wonderful loving heart. Something I'm sure you can't understand. And as far as I'm concerned, I wouldn't think about spending five minutes with you much less the rest of my life. You may end up with my home, but not with me, buster.” She was revving up and feeling wonderful. “If you came crawling to me on your hands and knees with a diamond as big as my fist in your teeth, I'd laugh in your face. Those are the facts. I'm sure you can find your way out.”

She turned and strode down the hall. Trent winced as the door slammed.

“Well,” he murmured, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “We certainly cleared that up.”

Insufferable. It was the perfect word to describe him, C.C. decided, and hugged it to her throughout the rest of the day.

By the time she got home, the house was quiet and settled for the night. She could hear, faintly, the soft and haunting notes of the piano from the music room. Turning away from the stairs, she followed the music.

It was Suzanna, of course, who sat at the lovely old spinet. She had been the only one who had stuck with the lessons or shown any real talent. Amanda had been too impatient, Lilah too lazy. And C.C... She looked down at her hands. Her fingers had been more at home smeared with motor oil than at the keys of a piano.