Нора Робертс - Courting Catherine

Trent shifted and tried to look natural. “Hi.”

'Hi.” She paused to button her denim jacket. “We're out of milk. Dp you need anything from the village?”

A can of dog food, he thought, and cleared his throat. “No, thanks. I, ah...” The pup wriggled against his shirt. “Did you find anything?”

“Lots of things, but nothing that tells us where to look for the necklace.” Her misery turned to curiosity as she watched the ripples run along his jacket. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine. Just fine.”Trent cleared his throat, folded his arms. “I took a walk.”

“Okay.” It was awful, she thought, just awful. He could hardly meet her eyes. “Aunt Coco's making a light lunch if you're hungry.”

“Oh—thanks.”

She started to move by him when a high-pitched yip stopped her in her tracks. “What?”

“Nothing.” He smothered an involuntary chuckle as the puppy wiggled along his ribs.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine.” He gave her a sheepish smile as the dog poked his nose above the zipper of the jacket.

“What have you got?” C.C. forgot her vow to keep her distance and stepped closer to tug the zipper down. “Oh! Trent, it's a puppy.”

“I found him down in the rocks,” he began quickly. “I wasn't sure just what to—”

“Oh, you poor little thing.” She was already cooing as she gathered the puppy to her. “Are you lost?” She rubbed her cheek over its fur, nuzzled nose to nose. “There now, it's all right.” The puppy wagged his tail so fast and hard he nearly fell out of her grip.

“Cute, isn't he?” Grinning, Trent moved closer to stroke. “Looks like he's been on his own for a while.”

“He's just a baby.” She crooned and cuddled. “Where did you say you found him?”

“Down on the rocks. I was walking.” And thinking of you. Before he could stop himself, Trent reached out to touch her hair. “I couldn't just leave him there.”

“Of course not.” She looked up and saw that she was all but in his arms. His hand was in her hair, his eyes on hers.

“Catherine—”

The pup yipped again and had her jolting back. “I'll take him in. He must be cold, and hungry.”

“All right.” The only place left for his hands was his pockets. “Why don't I run down and get the milk?”

“Okay.” Her smile was strained as she backed toward the steps. She turned and, murmuring to the puppy, dashed inside.

By the time Trent returned, the stray had a place of honor by the kitchen hearth and the undivided attention of four beautiful women.

“Wait until Suze and the kids get back,” Amanda was saying. “They'll flip. He sure goes for your liver pat€, Aunt Coco.”

“Obviously a gourmet among dogs.” Lilah, already on her hands and knees, leaned her nose against his. “Aren't you, cutie?”

“I'm sure he should have something more bland.” Coco was also on the floor, charmed. “With the proper care, he'll be very handsome.”

The pup, amazed at his good fortune, raced in circles. Spotting Trent, he gamboled over, tripping over his own feet. The women scrambled up, all asking him questions at the same time.

“Hold on.” Trent set the grocery bag on the table, then crouched down to scratch the pup's belly. “I don't know where he came from. I found him when I was walking along the cliffs. He was hiding out Weren't you, boy?”

“I suppose we should ask around, to see it anyone's lost him,” Coco began, then held up a hand as her nieces voiced unanimous dissent. “It's only right

But it is up to Trent, since he found him.”

“I think you should do what you think's best.” He rose to pull the milk out of the bag. “He could probably use some of this.”

Amanda already had a saucer and was arguing with Lilah on the proper amount to give their new guest.

“What else did you get?” C.C. poked at the bag.

“A few things.” He moved his shoulders, then gave up. “I thought he should have a collar.” Trent pulled out a bright red collar with silver studs.

C.C. couldn't hold back the grin. “Very fashionable.”

“And a leash.” Trent set that on the table, as well. “Puppy food.”

“Uh-huh.” C.C. began to go through the bag herself. “And puppy treats, rawhide bones.”

“He'll want to gnaw,” Trent told her.

“Sure, he will. A ball and a squeaky mouse.” Laughing, she squeezed the rubber toy.

“He should have something to play with.” He didn't want to add that he'd searched for a dog bed and cushion but hadn't come across them.

“I didn't know you were a softie.”

He glanced down at the happily lapping puppy. “Neither did I.” “What's his name?” Lilah wanted to know.

“Well, I...”

“You found him, you get to name him.”

“Do it quick,” Amanda advised him. “Before Li-lah sticks him with something like Griswold.”

“Fred,” Trent said on impulse. “He looks like a Fred to me.”

Unimpressed with his christening, Fred plopped down with one ear in the saucer of milk and went to sleep.

“Well, that's settled.” Amanda gave the pup one last pat before she rose. “Come on, Lilah, it's your turn to take a shift.”

“I'll give you a hand.” Instincts humming, Coco hustled her two nieces out of the room and left C.C. alone with Trent.

“I'd better go, too.” C.C. started for the door. Trent laid a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Wait.”

“What for?” “Just... wait.”

She stood, battling back hurt. “I'm waiting.” “I—how's your hand?”

“It's fine.”

“Good.” He felt like an idiot. “That's good.” “If that's all...”

“No. I wanted to tell you...I noticed a rattle in the car when I drove down to the village.”

“A rattle?” She pursed her lips. “What kind of rattle?”

An imaginary one, he thought, but shrugged. “Just a rattle. I was hoping you could take a look at it.”

“All right. Bring it in tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?”

“My tools are at the shop. Is there anything else?'

“When I was walking, I kept wishing you were with me.”

She looked away until she was sure she had rebuilt the chink he'd just knocked in her defensive wall. “We want different things, Trent. Let's just leave it at that.” She turned toward the door. “Try to get your car in early,” she added without looking around. “I've got an exhaust system to replace tomorrow.”

C.C. fired up her torch, flipped down her faceplate and prepared to cut off the tail pipe on the rusted exhaust of a '62 Plymouth.

The day was not going well.

She wasn't able to get the scheduled family meeting off her mind. No other paperwork on the necklace had shown up, though they had gone through reams and reams of receipts and old ledgers. She knew, because of Amanda's refusal to talk, that the news wasn’t good.

Added to that had been another restless night. She heard Fred's whimpering and had gone to check on him only to hear Trent's low murmuring soothing the puppy behind his bedroom door.

She'd stood there for a long time, listening.

The fact that he'd taken the stray into his room, cared enough to comfort and nurture only made C.C. love him more. And the more she loved, the more she hurt.

She knew she was hollow eyed this morning, because she'd made the mistake of looking at a mirror. That she could handle. Her looks had never been a major concern. The bills she had found in the morning mail were.

She'd been telling the truth when she'd told Su-zanna the business was doing well. But there were still rough spots. Not all of her customers paid promptly, and her cash flow was too often merely a trickle. Six months, she thought as she cut through the old metal. She only needed six months. But that was too long, much too long to help keep The Towers.

Her life was changing, changing fast, and none of it seemed to be for the better.

Trent stood watching her. She had some battered hulk of a car up on the lift and stood under it, wielding a torch. While he watched, she shifted aside as a pipe clattered to the floor. She was wearing coveralls again, thick safety gloves and a helmet. The music she never seemed to be without jingled from the radio on the workbench.

Surely a man was over the edge when he thought how delightful it would be to make love on a concrete floor with a woman who was dressed like a welder.

C.C. changed positions, then saw him. Very carefully she shut off the torch before she lifted the shield of her helmet.

“I couldn't find anything wrong with your car. Keys are in the office. No charge.” She flipped down the shield again.

“C.C.” “What?”

“How about dinner?”

She pushed back the shield and eyed him warily. “How about it?”

“I mean...” With a leery glance overhead, he stepped under the car with her. “I'd like you to have dinner with me tonight.”

She shifted her weight. “I've had dinner with you every night for several nights.” She flipped the shield down. Trent flipped it up again.

“No, I mean I want to take you out to dinner.” “Why?”

“Why not?”

She lifted a brow. “Well, that's very nice, but I'm a little pressed tonight We're having a family meeting.” She pulled down the shield again and prepared to relight the torch.

“Tomorrow then.” Annoyed, Trent pushed the shield back up. “Do you mind? I like to see you when I talk to you.”

“Yes, I mind because I've got work. And no, I won't have dinner with you tomorrow.”

“Why?”

She blew out a long breath that ruffled her bangs. “Because I don't want to.”

“You're still angry with me.”

Her eyes, which had begun to heat, went flat. “We settled all that, so there's no reason to go out on a date.”