What man wouldn’t?
Trouble was, Cat didn’t know the first thing about handling an operator like Lucas. How could she? That was why she’d asked Jake for help.
Teach me, she’d pleaded. And he’d responded by ignoring her.
Jake finished his coffee, put the mug down and leaned on the railing again. He’d turned his back on her request and look what had happened. Okay, he didn’t want to teach her how to make love, but still he could have sat her down, talked to her. Explained the facts of life.
How men could smile and seem sincere. How they could seem friendly and harmless. How they could make her laugh. When all the time what they really wanted was to get her into bed.
Even tonight he’d behaved stupidly.
She’d wanted to dance? He could have danced with her instead of letting Lucas teach her how it felt to be in a man’s arms. He could have been the man who made her laugh.
He liked the way she laughed, the way she tossed her head so that her hair cascaded down her back.
And that night when she’d asked him to teach her about sex.
He could have said yes. Yes, I’ll teach you.
He could have taken her to bed, lost himself in her, made love to her until she sighed with pleasure and understood that the touch of a man’s hand…
Hell, no.
Until she understood that the touch of his hand, only his, could turn her wild, could make her whisper Jake, I want you. Jake, I need you. Jake…
“Jake?”
He swung around. Cat stood in the open doorway, but her soft whisper had nothing to do with passion. She was wrapped in a robe that looked as if she’d swiped it from a barn; her face was pale and shiny with sweat despite the cold.
“Cat?”
“Jake,” she moaned, “I’m going to be—”
He scooped her into his arms, carried her through the darkened rooms to the closest bathroom and got her there with no time to spare.
“It’s okay,” he said, holding her as she bent over the commode. “It’s okay, honey.”
She was violently ill, but he knew it was for the best. She’d feel better once her stomach had rid itself of the rum in the loathsome caipirinhas. When she was done, he gave her water to rinse her mouth, gently washed her face, then carried her up the stairs to her room and sat her on the edge of the bed.
She was shivering with cold. Gently, he slipped his hand under the collar of the heavy robe and touched her throat. She was soaked with sweat.
“Cat. You have to change your clothes.”
“I feel awful.” Her voice was so soft he could hardly hear her. “My stomach hurts. And my head. Oh, God, Jake, I want to die!”
“Let me help you change out of this wet stuff. Then I’ll bring you something that will make you feel better.”
“Promise?”
He had to smile. “Cross my heart.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, went to her closet and rummaged through it. He found a long flannel nightgown in one of the built-in drawers and brought it to her.
“Come on, honey. Stand up so I can get this robe off you.”
With his help, she wobbled to her feet. He undid the sash of the robe and wondered where in hell Belle had taken Cat shopping that she could have found something so ugly.
“…self,” Cat mumbled.