Naked Games (Hard to Get 3)

It wasn’t a question, simply an observation. Catherine felt compelled to respond anyway. “Every day.” She put her purse on the chair and followed him. “At first the grief swamps you. It gets easier as time goes on, but not by much.”

He nodded as he spooned up a good portion of the steaming soup into a round, white stoneware bowl. He placed it on the square oak table and waved a hand toward her. “I lost my dad a few years ago. It’s tough.”

Catherine pulled out a chair and sat, but she was too interested in the conversation to care about the food. He was opening up a little. She decided to see it as a good sign. “I’m sorry. How did he die?”

He placed a napkin and spoon on the table next to her bowl. “Heart attack. None of us saw it coming.”

“When it’s sudden, comes out of nowhere, it makes you feel as if you’ve been cheated. There’s no chance to say good-bye.”

“Yeah,” he growled as he turned back to the stove to ladle up a helping for himself. As he moved to sit in the seat across from her and picked up his spoon, his dark chocolate gaze caught and held hers. “So, did you come here to talk about the death of a loved one?”

She squinted at him. “You like to get right to the point, don’t you?”

“Usually, yeah. And right now you’re stalling.”

She watched him eat. He didn’t wolf down the food, but ate each bite slowly, as if he wanted to savor it. “I thought we were having a nice conversation,” she said, distracted by the way his tongue darted out to lick up a bit of broth. “You know, two adults enjoying each other’s company.”

He placed the spoon on the table and swiped a napkin over his mouth. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t trust you. That’s not likely to change just because you want it to. So, if that’s the reason you’re here, then you might as well leave.”

She dropped her spoon, and it hit the bowl with a clang, bounced off, and landed on the table. “What’s your deal?” she shouted as she lost her grip on her temper. “Everyone else seems okay with my presence here. Everyone except you. Why?”

“You came out of nowhere and insinuated yourself into Gracie’s life. Maybe all you want is some bonding time with her, but I can’t help but feel there’s more to it than that.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “What more could there possibly be?”

“You tell me, Catherine.”

“All I want is to spend time with her. I didn’t have the luxury you had growing up.”

He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “And what luxury might that be?”

“The luxury of growing up with your siblings. You got to see Wade graduate from high school. You watched Deanna go from a little girl to a beautiful, intelligent woman.” Her throat closed up for a second and she had to swallow hard before she could say the rest. “Gracie’s childhood was stolen from me, Dean. We never got to talk about boys late into the night. She and I never swapped clothes and makeup. Even arguing over whose turn it is to do the dishes was lost to us. All the things sisters do, she and I missed out on that.”

He cocked his head to the side, his expression as unreadable as ever. “And that’s all there is to it?”

“Oh, my Lord, what is it with you?” she said, her voice rising even more as anger began to take the place of common sense. “Do you think I’m after her money? Because I can tell you that I have plenty of my own. Not only did my parents have a nice-sized insurance policy, but I’m a website designer. I do just fine, trust me.”

“See? That’s just it, Catherine, I don’t trust you. I thought we already established that.”

Frustrated and ready to commit cold-blooded murder, Catherine shot out of her chair. “Obviously this was a huge mistake. I never should have come here. I’m sorry I bothered you.” But before she could take more than a few steps, Dean was there, holding her still with one arm wrapped around her middle from behind. She stiffened. “Let me go,” she bit out from between clenched teeth.

He tsked. “Nope, I’m not through with you yet.”

“I don’t give a damn.” She tried to pry him loose, but he wouldn’t budge. “Let me go, or I start screaming.”

He chuckled and whispered close to her ear, “You’re awfully damn naive, do you know that?”

She grasped onto his hand and tried to remove it, but the man must have been made of steel. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re in a strange man’s home, sweetheart. I’m bigger, stronger, and I could do anything I wanted to you right now. Screaming wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, because the nearest neighbor is half an acre away.”

Yeah, okay, that was a scary thought. “B-but Gracie trusts you.”

He pulled his arm away, but before she could run to the front door he was spinning her around to face him. “And that’s enough for you? How do you know that I’m not some rapist or murderer?”

His brown eyes weren’t filled with menace. In fact, unless she missed her guess, Dean looked concerned. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” she shot right back. It was a leap of faith, but Catherine had always had good instincts. She had no reason to stop trusting them now.

“If you hurt my family, I’ll do that and more,” he murmured. “Make no mistake, Catherine, I protect my own.”