Page 23 of Native Hawk
Chapter 7
Catalina’s gentleman caller topped off her whiskey and poured another for himself.
“What did you say your full name was?” he asked.
She didn’t want more whiskey. She could still feel the burn of the last shot in her throat.
Her name? She didn’t remember what she’d told him before. But she never used the same name twice anyway. “Catalina Margarita Riccio di Santanella Abrizzio.”
He cocked a suspicious eye at her, but didn’t say anything. And Catalina thought if he kept looking at her like that, she’dneedanother drink of whiskey.
Drew Hawk was not all what she’d expected. She figured he’d look like the rest of the regulars—plain, ordinary, middle-aged—manageable and non-threatening.
And even though she’d gotten herself into this unnerving predicament, she expected she could get herself out of it. She’d observed how the ladies of the evening dealt with their clients. Besides, he’d promised not to have intercourse with her. How difficult could it be?
Then tall, dark, handsome Drew Hawk had come striding into her room as if he belonged there. Oozing masculine confidence, he’d taken her breath away and left her speechless. He appeared to be a bit travel-worn, but he was well-dressed, in snug brown wool trousers, a white cotton shirt, a brown brocade vest, a long oilcloth duster, and quality leather boots.
Yet despite his civilized attire, he looked nothing like a manageable regular. In fact, he looked about as manageable as a wild stallion.
His hair was black like hers, and the thick curls teased at his neck. He was clean-shaven, though it looked like it had been a few days since he’d shaved. His skin was a rich golden color, and his teeth shone white against his face when he smiled. But it was his dark, sparkling eyes that captivated her. They were so compelling that she couldn’t look into them for too long, fearing she’d lose herself in their shimmering depths.
“Cheers,” he said, handing her a glass and clinking it with his. “This time, just sip. Watch me.” He winked, making her heart skip.
Maybe she needed that whiskey after all.
He took a small sip to show her.
She raised the glass to her lips in imitation, taking a tiny sip. Then she caught her reflection in the mirror and choked again.Santo cielo!She was standing beside the tall, handsome, fully dressed man in nothing but her camisole and drawers, with her hair loose over her shoulders, sipping whiskey. She looked just like all the other soiled doves of The Parlor. How quickly she’d become a fallen woman.
“You okay?” he asked with a chuckle. It was a delightful sound.
She nodded.
But she was still startled by the difference in their size. How she ever dreamed she could manage such a man, she didn’t know. He was so big, he could carry her off in one arm.
“Just how do you plan to finish off that bottle if you keep chokin’ on it?” he teased. He tossed back the rest of his glass and set it, empty, on the dresser.
While she cautiously sipped at the contents of her own glass, he boldly seated himself on the edge of her bed.
She stiffened, suddenly feeling violated. This washerroom. A stranger shouldn’t be sitting on her bed.
Then she remembered the twenty dollars he’d paid for the privilege.
Was it really so terrible to have him here? He wasn’t doing her any harm. He’d promised not to bed her. He wasn’t even insisting that she get undressed.
Still, his presence was affecting her. She wasn’t sure whether the warm glow in her cheeks was from the whiskey or the thought of the man making himself at home in her room.
He waggled one of the bedposts, as if testing its strength.
She gulped down the whiskey all at once and instantly poured herself another. This time, she managed not to choke, but she winced as it seared a path down her throat.
“So what brought you to California, Miss…” He screwed up his brow. “Tell me your name again?”
What had she told him before? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t notice it was different. Besides, after tomorrow, she’d never see him again.
“Catalina Isabella Fortuna di Rosetti Cesare Bertolini.”
He smirked. There was a knowing twinkle in his eye. “If I had a name that long, I might not remember it either.”
