Page 44 of Native Hawk
Chapter 13
Drew’s heart dropped. He didn’t want to get married. But he didn’t wantherto get married either.
It was ludicrous, this sense of possessiveness he felt toward Cat. But he realized he didn’t want to share her. Not with the men slobbering over her in the salon. And not with some faceless hero who might show up as early as next week.Next week?
Catalina shrugged. “Life is uncertain.”
He knew that well enough. He’d built an entire career on a game based on uncertainty. Still, it didn’t feel right to gamble with your heart.
“Well,” he said, inexplicably disgruntled, “I’m glad that’s settled.”
It wasn’t settled at all, and he wasn’t glad. But it was his own fault. He was the one who’d brought it up.
She seemed cool and aloof when she said, “It is the same as before. We will not make the sex.”
“Well, o’ course not, not if you’re gonna be marryin’ some Tom, Dick, or Harry next week.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” He started getting undressed.
She went to the dresser to take the pins out of her hair. Her gaze was fixed on the marble top of the dresser when she asked him, “Doyounever intend to marry?”
He’d hung up his vest and was rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. Her words stopped him.
“Sure, some day,” he answered carefully. “Just not next week.”
She took out the last pin and looked at her reflection, fluffing her hair with her fingers. “I don’t think your bride will be happy to know you go to thebordello.”
He unbuttoned his shirt. “I don’t think your husband will be happy to know youworkin one.”
She gasped. “I am not making the sex with anyone!”
“Neither am I,” he said, giving her a sharp look in the mirror.
Then he sighed. Whyhadhe forked over another twenty dollars to a woman who didn’t want to sleep with him?
Cat began brushing her hair with a vengeance.
It felt like it was going to be a long night.
Last night, she’d hardly been able to take her eyes off of him as he unbuttoned his trousers. Tonight, she ignored him.
He put his gun on the nightstand and hung his pants on the bedpost. He wondered what she’d say if he took off his undershirt and drawers.
In the end, he decided that would only make both of them more miserable. So he slipped between the covers, propping up his pillow and clasping his hands behind his head to watch her.
He swore if she brushed her hair any harder, it would come out by the roots.
But even when she was angry, she really was incredibly alluring. She was far more interesting than the milk-faced maids who fluttered their fans at him on the street and more complex than the fawning ladies who usually worked in a sporting house. She was going to make someone a lucky man…if a man could get close to that kind of fire without getting burned.
The man who married Cat would have to know just how to handle her. He’d have to let her lean on him while making her feel like she was in charge. He’d have to have patience with her skittishness while daring her to break her boundaries. He’d have to lead her into temptation and make her believe it was her idea.
As he watched her at her ablutions, he started thinking it was a shame she didn’t want him to “make the sex” with her. He knew he could make her first time special. He knew how to be gentle and sweet and caring.
He would have swept those black curls off the back of her neck and placed a kiss there.
He would have traced every lovely feature of her face with a fingertip.
