Page 23 of Courting Catherine
“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 pictures—quite 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 III. 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.”
Chapter Five
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.
Still she loved to listen. There was nothing that soothed or charmed her more than music.
