3
THE buzz was persistent. Really persistent. Annoyingly so. Catarina groaned and rolled over, her hair falling around her face, spilling across the pillow and covering her eyes and nose. The stupid buzzer blasted through the warehouse, as if someone leaned on it. It wasn't designed to be musical. It was loud and sounded like an alarm. She put the pillow over her head and held it there in hopes of drowning out the noise, but apparently, whoever had owned the warehouse before Malcom had been totally deaf.
"All right," she yelled, throwing the pillow and fighting her way out of the covers. She kicked several times, destroying her perfectly made-up bed, and sat up, sweeping back the mass of dark, wavy hair. It was everywhere. She looked around vaguely for a clip to tame the thick length, but the buzzer persisted, louder than ever.
"Seriously?" she muttered, and leapt to her feet, stalking through the warehouse to the front door. She flung it open, scowling ominously with blurry vision. "Are you crazy? It's like three o'clock in the morning."
Ridley stood there. Tall. Looking amazing. Refreshed and looking amazing. Seriously hot and amazing. "You. Are. Nuts." She tried to close the door in his face.
He stuck his boot in the door. "Step back, Kitten, I'm coming in and I've got my hands full."
He pushed open the door, and she pushed back. He was stronger, so the door swung his way. She clenched her teeth and stepped back, allowing him entry. He was carrying boxes and bags, which meant his hands were tied up.
"Cat, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like you don't have two of your weapons and I could kick you in the thigh very hard and give you a dead leg? Like that? And then do a sweep and take both your legs out from under you? Am I giving you that kind of look? And then roll your body right out my front door? Because I'm contemplating how much of an effort that would be."
His mouth twitched. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Of course, because you're the most annoying man on earth, I'd have to find the wire to cut that buzzer and stop it from ever working. You're the type that would just lay on it and wake a girl up when she just went to bed."
"I always say dream big if you're going to do it," he said, not in the least bit worried. "And it's not three in the morning, baby, it's more like nine."
He stared down at her from his lofty height, which only annoyed her more.
"You walked me home again last night. You know when I got to bed. This is my three o'clock in the morning." When he didn't turn and leave, she threw her hands in the air and then had to shove again at the wild mass of hair tumbling down to her waist.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're grumpy when you wake up?"
"As I don't wake up around anyone, no, they haven't."
His eyes went pure gold, moving over her in the slow, intense way she was coming to recognize as his taking in everything. Her breath hitched in her lungs when he looked at her.
Ridley couldn't take his eyes off Catarina. Her sweatpants rode low on her hips. Her tank molded to her breasts, and she wasn't thin. She had curves, and he liked a woman with curves. She hid them under baggy clothes, but they were there, a little too curvy by normal standards, but certainly not by his. She had a very small waist and a narrow rib cage, which only served to emphasize the curve of her hips and butt and her breasts. Her tank was just that little bit too short, baring her midriff, and she had unbelievable skin. She didn't wear makeup ever that he'd seen. Maybe lip gloss once in a while, but right now her lips were bare, along with her feet.
Her hair was wild. Bedroom wild. Sexy wild. And then on top of everything else she had those eyes. Large, framed with long thick black lashes, her eyes were unbelievable, and he wanted them staring straight into his when he was buried deep in her body. He wanted to see how those eyes changed when he gave her an orgasm.
He swore to himself. She wasn't very old, not in years, but in her eyes, she was a million years old. That wasn't a green light, he knew that. She was terrified, absolutely terrified, and he detested that. No woman should ever have to live in fear. She was always in flight mode. He knew she was preparing herself to fight, but right now, all he'd seen was her hiding herself away, her silence, baggy clothes and downcast eyes. That was Catarina in full flight.
He wanted to help her, to find a way to let her live in daylight. Along with her looks and that smile of hers, she made him laugh. He couldn't remember laughing in a hell of a long time. And then she had that attitude. Looks, humor and attitude--hell--he was a goner. That made the situation a lot more dangerous. The last thing he needed was any chemistry between them. Hell. He was fucked. There were moments when the chemistry was off the charts. He couldn't lie to himself about that. He had to be careful with her. Sex wasn't going to help her situation, at least not now.
"My God, Kitten, you're gorgeous. You're fucking beautiful." He couldn't help himself. He had to tell her, because she didn't know. He knew when women thought they were beautiful, and this one had no idea.
Catarina's heart stuttered. Another compliment from Ridley, and it sounded genuine. She should have been just a little upset over the way he sounded, as if he was astonished, but no one had ever said anything like that to her before. Not ever. She blinked at him and all the attitude melted away. She didn't know what to say so she turned her back on him and walked toward her bedroom.
"Wait." His voice was low. Sexy.
She felt heat spreading. Looking over her shoulder at him, she raised an eyebrow, afraid to trust her voice.
"I brought coffee. I wasn't certain if you were up already, but I couldn't carry it and the boxes. Two cups sitting right outside your door." He didn't wait to see if she'd get them, he just stalked through her living space and left her to it.
Catarina took a deep breath. She had no idea how Ridley managed to get past her guard. No one ever did that, but he didn't even seem to notice she had barriers up at all. He didn't see her shields and she certainly wasn't invisible to him.
"Do you have any tools? I should have asked you that."
She yanked open the door and there were two cups from Poetry Slam sitting right outside where he'd said they would be. She brought them in, taking a sip of the one that was marked latte. Not as good as she made, but passable. She needed the caffeine if she was going to deal with Ridley Cromer. Last night he hadn't come inside, in fact if anything, he'd seemed a little distracted. He hadn't mentioned the security system again, so she had hoped he would forget all about it. Evidently he hadn't.
"Tools, Kitten."
"Malcom may have left a few lying around. He keeps most of his things in that corner over there." She waved her hand toward what she considered Malcom's mess. She didn't ever touch his things, so she didn't go near them, otherwise she'd never be able to stop herself from straightening everything up.
The bed was her goal--to make it, not sleep in it. She caught his grin when he glanced into her bedroom and saw the covers all over the floor and partially off the bed.
"You really wake up in a mood, don't you? I can't believe no one's ever mentioned it."
She turned to face him. Throwing coffee would not only be childish, but stupid when she needed it. Besides, if she had to, she could always throw his cup at him.
"No one ever sees me in the morning because I live alone."
"You can't have lived alone your entire life, woman. Someone has to know you're a grump." Amusement crept into his tone.
He sorted through the boxes without looking at her--a good thing, because she stiffened and then froze, her heart pounding in her throat. This kind of thing was exactly why she didn't let anyone into her life. She tasted fear in her mouth.
She waited too long to answer and his head came up, his eyes on hers. He saw too much. He knew she was frozen, unable to speak. She could see it on his face. Ridley pushed the box he was opening aside and crossed the space to her. He had a gentle look on his face. He took his coffee cup from her hand and reached for her with the other, his palm sliding beneath her hair to curl around the nape of her neck.
"It's all right, Kitten. I'm not trying to pry. Whatever is in your past, whoever scares the hell out of you, can stay there. I didn't mean to bring up ghosts with my teasing."
Who acted like him? She'd never met anyone like him in her life and she'd been around nothing but men. No one looked at her like that, or spoke in that voice. They weren't kind. Or caring. They always had an agenda. If they were nice to her, it was to curry favor with their boss. If they weren't, it was because they were afraid if they were nice, their boss wouldn't like it much.
She attempted a weak smile. He had to think she was a basket case. The thing was, she was only a crazy person around him. The rest of the time, her rules were in place and she led a happy, disciplined life.
"Tell me you're all right. If you're not, we'll talk about this. And you clearly don't make sense when you wake up."
The affection in his voice would have been her undoing, but he'd managed to annoy her again. "I make perfect sense. And I don't wake up grumpy."
He grinned at her. "I've got tools in the truck. I'll get them. You can sit around, drink your coffee and admire the fact that I really do make perfect sense when I wake up. And I'm not grumpy."
She glared at him. "Do you remember what I said about kicking you in the thigh and rolling you right out of here? The idea is looking better and better."