Chapter 20
20
Theo
W hen I finally stand, people are staring, and I’m on my way to flashing an erection to the gathered onlookers. Cat’s skin is so smooth, and getting my hands on her did something to me. Especially with the way she was looking at me, like she wanted me to keep inching my fingers higher.
“Half the ballroom is watching us,” I say quietly. “Look like you love me.”
“The miserable half,” she mutters, but she gazes up at me with soft eyes and a warm smile.
“Better, darling. Can you dance?”
“I’m fine. Physically, at least. Emotionally, I’m not sure I’ll recover.” She’s so annoyed, and I want to laugh, but I know she’ll be even more irritated.
“That bad having my hands on you?” I pull her toward the dance floor.
“Horrible. I hated it.”
“I could tell,” I say solemnly. “You looked ill when I was whispering in your ear earlier. Red and sweaty. ”
“You flatterer, you.” She smiles slyly at me as we step onto the dance floor. My chest twinges. We’re in this together, Cat and me, and I’ve never felt that before today. For the last three weeks, she’s been an enemy to be managed, a situation that befell me. But now, she’s an ally.
“Thank you for earlier,” I say as I pull her into my arms and put one hand on her waist, the other gripping her palm.
“You mean when they asked about hockey, and I said I liked the skating?” She winces. “That was…not smooth. I promise to look up some hockey facts. Or go to a game.”
“You should come.” I splay my hand possessively over the small of her back. Men are looking at her, and I want to snap my teeth at them. Maybe I should get down on my knees again. That’ll show them. Her eyes will go all hazy like they did before, and she’ll look at me like I’m the only man in the world.
“To a hockey game? Sure. I mean, I guess it would be good for this whole thing.”
“It would.” I nod. “But what I meant was thank you for standing up for me.”
“Oh. That.” She frowns. “They were being quite rude. Implying you were some sort of— ne’er-do-well . A problem to be managed or changed. ” She makes a small noise of disgust and lets me maneuver her awkwardly around the corner of the dance floor. “I’m sorry, you know.” She looks up at me, regret written in those deep brown eyes. “I implied the same this week. I was being a jerk.”
My lungs seize. “I was being a jerk too,” I say hoarsely. “And you couldn’t have known that’s a sore spot for me. You hear how handsome you are often enough, and you start to think that maybe that’s all you are.”
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t really know me,” I say without heat.
“I think we need to change that,” she says ruefully. “I’m not going through that again.” She tilts her head toward where Lorenzo and Francesca are standing at the bar. “We have to get to know each other better. Get closer. ”
“You make me sound like a foot fungus. Try to look excited.”
She bares her teeth in an awful smile, and I snort a laugh. The song switches to something slower, more romantic, and I shift her in my arms until our bodies brush every time we move. She breathes out, and I breathe her in.
“Tell me something true, Catherine.”
Her gaze flicks up to mine. “Something small?”
“Something big.” I pause. “I dare you. We’re supposed to be opening up, remember?”
I want to know Cat. I want to find out who she is beneath the layers and her secrets. Because I’m starting to think there are more of those than I ever anticipated.
She huffs a breath. “Fine. I have a bucket list.”
“Like you’re going to die soon, and you need to check things off?” What would possess this girl who grew up with everything to have a bucket list?
She pokes at my chest. “Don’t make fun. It’s a get out of my shell list. I was supposed to dance on a table the other night. If only I hadn’t been so rudely interrupted when someone dragged me out of there.”
“Heaven forbid,” I mutter, but my thoughts are on her list. “You want to get out of your shell?” I never thought of Cat as having one, but I guess she does. I was always the one to badger her into doing bad things when we were young.
She looks away. “I haven’t had many life experiences,” she says awkwardly. “I know it seems silly, given my family, but my parents dictated a lot of what I did for years. And I’m free now. I’m free, and I want to live.” Her voice goes up as she speaks, until she’s fierce and glaring at me, daring me to mock her.
“So, what’s on it? Anything good?” I keep my voice light and teasing, but inside, the words she used feel like bullets. Dictated. Free.
“Do you really want to know?”
My hand tightens on her waist as we sway. “I do. And I hope dancing lessons are on there, because you’re not very good. You’ve stepped on my foot twice. ”
She stiffens. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Tell me about the list.” I smooth my hand down her back, soothing her.
“It’s silly.” She sighs. “Lots of stuff. Staying out all night, getting my palm read at one of these really seedy places downtown, dancing on a table, learning to drive.”
“Right. You said that you didn’t know how. And I said it was because you’ve been driven around your whole life.” I look down at her instead of the crowd on the dance floor. Her face gives nothing away. All I see are thick, sooty lashes, that impossibly alluring freckle, her smooth, pale skin. “I’m sorry,” I say softly, “Cat.”
She looks up. Her eyes are sad, and my insides twist. I don’t know the whole story, but I do know I was being a jerk. Even if she’s probably exaggerating the memory in her head. After all, she was a teenager at the time, and nothing if not dramatic.
“All good,” she says with a shake of her head.
“All right, so what about the really crazy stuff? You must have some of that on the list.”
She smiles. “Sure. I have stuff I’ll never do. Visit Antarctica as ethically as possible. Oh, travel solo is on there. That I’ll do. There’s nothing too crazy.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she considers.
“Boring.”
“Do not make fun of the list, Theo.”
“What about skydiving and the bungee jumping?”
She shakes her head.
“Speed boat racing? Jell-O wrestling?”
Another shake, but this time, her eyes are lit up with amusement.
“Threesomes? Ah. No. Good, you’re ambitious. Foursomes, then.”
“Stop.” She gasps a laugh. “We don’t need you getting turned on again and making a spectacle.”
“I never make a spectacle.”
She levels me a look. “Really, Theo.”
“Just a little bit of a spectacle.” I wink at her, and she laughs again, and fuck if I don’t love being the one to make her. Because we’re selling this. I know we look like we’re in love. The dancing, the way Cat is smiling up at me, the way I keep touching her.
Her gaze goes distant, and her face falls.
“Don’t look now, but my father just walked in the door.” There’s a distinct note of panic in her voice. Her eyes slice to mine. “Theo, please. We have to make this believable. If he doesn’t believe me, he’ll think he can break us up. And I’ll never get the inheritance. Or he’ll challenge it in court as a sham marriage.”
Her hands tighten on my jacket. Why is she so scared?
She hates him. Unease settles over me. She hates him a whole lot if the way her pulse is pounding under my hand is any indication. Gregory Peterson is a miserable prick. I hate him too, but I’m not his only daughter.
“Okay.” I tip her chin up with one hand. “Eyes on me.” I rub my thumb over her plush bottom lip, and it gives under the pressure. Her eyes go heavy-lidded. Anticipation swirls, and I let it build until each breath feels charged. When I dip my head and finally brush my mouth over hers, she lets out a gasp and clutches at my jacket. I do it again and capture the sound she makes with my mouth. At twenty-one, I kissed Cat in the rain, and I felt like I might die. Even her untutored, eager kisses were like a drug to me. This is our third kiss ever, after the awkwardness at our wedding, and it’s like a lightning strike to the chest.
We’re not dancing anymore. Instead, I’m holding her up and breathing her in and licking at the seam of her lips until she opens for me. Our tongues tangle, and the hot, needy stroke of hers against mine makes me want to roar in triumph. Her hands clutch at my lapels. I pull her closer, closer, trying to drown myself in the way she tastes. In the back of my mind, I dimly wonder if we’re making fools of ourselves. I can’t find it in me to care, but Cat must, because she pulls away and stares at me. Her eyes are starry, and her lips glisten. She’s so pretty. So unbearably pretty. I want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here, but instead, I cup her jaw.
“Do you think he believed us?” she asks .
“Most definitely.” I stroke a finger along the silky skin of her throat. “Catherine. You hate your father, don’t you?”
She swallows hard. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Want to be bad?” I smile at her.
“How bad?”
“A little bad.” Actually, quite bad, but I’m not telling her that. I turn to a passing waiter and grab two glasses of champagne from a tray. “I dare you.” I wag my brows. Cat Peterson could never resist a dare.
“Fine.” She holds out her hand.
“That’s my girl.” I pass her a glass. “Let’s go. Take my arm.” She takes it, and I steer her toward her father. “We’re going to stumble again, and your drink is going straight onto those obscenely expensive loafers he’s wearing. Penny loafers to a black-tie event should be a crime.”
Cat huffs a laugh. “You’re a snob, Theo Archer.”
“A well-dressed one,” I toss back.
We stroll closer to where her father is cozying up to a man I don’t recognize. He’s ignoring us, the ass. When we’re too close to ignore, he turns to us with a fake smile.
“Catherine. Theo. I heard the happy news.” He doesn’t offer congratulations, and his eyes are flat. Cat is shaking.
“I wish I could say it was a pleasure,” I respond.
He ignores me, turning to his daughter with hard eyes. “The Archer boy. Really, Catherine?” The Archer boy. The words are a cold stone in my stomach, a reminder that he doesn’t think I’m good enough.
“Not this again,” she says.
Again? What does again mean? Did Catherine talk to her father about the marriage? I’d assumed she wasn’t in touch with him, but perhaps she was. Perhaps she is going to run back to her parents in a few weeks, whenever this dispute with her father is over.
“Your marriage won’t last. If it’s even a real marriage.” His face takes on a vicious cast. “There’s still time to marry Arnold, if he’ll have you.”
Cat freezes. I squeeze her hand. She takes one lurching step and tips her drink onto his shoes. “Oh my gosh, I’m so clumsy.” Her shock is perfect, her stumble looked real. Brilliant. I nearly smile, but instead grab a passing waiter to ask for a napkin.
While her father is wiping his shoes, Cat and I make our escape, scooping up our jackets and hustling out into the night air. When we get outside, she whirls. Her face is viciously satisfied.
“That was awesome.”
I hold my hand up for a high five, and she smacks it.
“Oh, he so deserved that.” She shakes her whole body. “That was fucking great.”
“Is that on your list?”
“No, but it should be. I’ll add it when I get home.”
“The list can be expanded, then?” An idea takes shape as we wait for Daniel in the cold air.
She cocks her head. “Of course it can be.”
“What if we did it together?” My pulse speeds. This is a good idea. A great one, even. Kill two birds with one stone—get Cat to open up to me and sell this marriage better than we have been.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she says slowly.
Daniel pulls up with the car, and I usher Cat inside. As we move smoothly into traffic, I turn to her. A few more tendrils of hair have escaped around her face, and her lip gloss is gone, though her lips are still that enticing pink. Cat has always entranced me. When I was twenty, I used to stare at her mouth when she talked. That freckle drew my eye. Looks like it still does. I clear my throat awkwardly.
“Think about it,” I say. “We don’t know each other. We can’t even respond to a simple question about what we like to do together. If you don’t want your to father to challenge this marriage, we need to be a team. A real team. We’re going to get to know each other. We’re going to do the list. We will see and be seen.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I keep going.
“We’ll have stories to tell when we’re having drinks with my investors. You’ll tell me about yourself. We’ll be open and communicative and coupley .”
She makes a face at my final words .
“I know,” I say. Coupley sounds dangerous. A great way to get too close to Cat and be disappointed by her all over again.
“I’d rather staple my fingers together,” she says, looking pained.
My mouth tugs up. “I’d rather go without sex for a year.”
“I don’t think that’s medically recommended.”
“I might die,” I say, laughter bubbling up inside me.
“I’ll be waiting,” she says sweetly.
The laugh escapes, and Cat grins.
“It’s a good idea,” she says. “You’re right. Much as I hate to admit it.” She sighs. “I’ll show you the list when we get home.”
“Want to add another thing and check it off?” At her suspicious look, I say, “Something small. I promise. We need couple activities, remember? This is one of my favorite places.”