Chapter 4
JULIAN
My office desk is a wretched mess of all the projects I started and abandoned today.
I thought of working my way through some tax forms but couldn’t focus enough to get it done, so I dropped the task.
Then I moved on to the reading of resumés, looking for the next hires in the company.
Not a word stuck in my head, so I changed to going through some old papers I had in the house, separating what could go to trash and what I had to keep.
Another useless attempt at keeping Catalina from my mind. Once I noticed I had mixed the piles up, twice, I had to stop that too. There was no way I would get anything done today, no matter how hard I tried.
More than twice, Lisa knocked on my office’s door to plead with me to come down.
I refused. More of my employees visited throughout the day, but I gave them the same answer I had given her.
They were free to do whatever they wished on the ranch.
There was the internet, and the TV room if someone wanted to stay cooped up.
My stableman would take them around the property on horseback if they so desired.
The cook would have four meals laid out during the day.
Everything had been planned in case I tired of their company.
It happened often. Not that I disliked these people—though I didn’t like most of them—but this was a company, not a group of friends, and I wasn’t supposed to like them.
It wouldn’t even be possible with my personality, and they all knew that.
Some people enjoy parties and being the center of attention. I love my work and the company I built, and I’d much rather spend my time improving it however I can, instead of wasting time on useless small talk.
Night has closed in. I look up from the piles of paper on my desk to the clock on the wall.
Almost midnight. It doesn’t surprise me how hard my stomach rumbles.
Even not managing to do much, I still spent the entire day here.
I still spent the whole time pretending I was working, just so I could hide from Catalina.
God. I’m an adult man, approaching fifty, owner of a company, so rich I’m one of the biggest donors in the Make a Wish Foundation. I should not be hiding away from a woman. Should not be so intent on avoiding her sight.
And yet...
And yet she makes me feel like a teenager.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach when she smiles at me, and my entire body tenses when I touch her.
Fuck, the idea of helping her down from the horse yesterday was stupid.
So fucking stupid. It only created a huge reaction in my body, my cock hard as steel, my balls so heavy I had to jerk off twice before I joined them again.
It’s her. This woman. Her beauty and her innocence, the way her eyes sparkle. It’s her curves, her smile, and the way her juicy body fits against mine. She intoxicates me. She hypnotizes me.
I’m fucking doomed as long as she’s here.
But now, it’s too late for her to be up. The house is quiet, and I’ll have space to go into the kitchen, find something to eat. Then I’ll work out for half an hour and go to sleep. I need the exhaustion to put me down, or I’ll spend another night rolling over in bed, thinking of her.
As expected, the house is dark as I make my way to the kitchen through the dining room. I flick the hallway lights on, letting the dim orange spill onto the table, then start circling it to reach the door that will lead into...
A coat hangs from the back of a chair. It’s the only piece of clothing in the room. And it’s hers. I know it’s hers. It’s the one she wore yesterday when we had dinner. Catalina’s sweater. Surely covered in her smell, forgotten behind after she didn’t feel so cold anymore.
I stop. My body tenses. I curl my fingers into fists. No. I can’t do that. How sick would that be? She’s almost thirty years my junior, the daughter of an employee. No, I should not.
And yet, this growing obsession is unstoppable. There’s nothing I can do to halt myself from crossing the room, pulling a chair out. I sit down in the semi-darkness, my eyes on the sweater. Fighting against myself, I reach out and grip the coat between my fingers, feeling the soft fabric.
A couple of jerky heartbeats and I bring the coat to my face. Press it to my nose. And I take a deep inhale of it.
Shit. Her sweet, sweet fragrance is all over the piece of clothing. It burns down my throat, fixes into my lungs. In a second, I know I’ll never forget what she smells like. The scent of her will be engraved in my memory forever. I breathe out, a low growl leaving my lips as my pants grow tight.
“Mr. Reynolds?”
Like a deer caught in headlights, I freeze.
Shit. Fucking shit, what did I just do? I look up and find Catalina standing at the entrance to the room, hand poised on the frame.
Her plump lips part, an eyebrow arching in doubt.
We stare, and slowly she understands what I’m doing.
Her brows raise for a moment, then she takes a step closer.
I still don’t move, unsure what action would be the best one.
Catalina approaches, step after step, closing the space between us. I drop my hands to my lap, bringing the coat down. Will she slap me? Call me a pervert, a bastard, pluck the sweater from between my fingers and rush off? Will she tell her father, tell Lisa, make a scandal?
Catalina stares at me. She’s close. When did she get this close?
Her eyes burn in the dim light. “What are you doing?” she whispers, her knees an inch away from brushing mine.
I have no words to tell her. No words that would make me look less guilty than I am, caught red-handed at sniffing the clothes of a young woman.
My face warms, and I can’t say a thing. I can’t tell her the truth.
Can’t say I’ve been obsessed with her from the second I laid eyes on her pretty face. What would she do? Would she laugh?
The orange light creates a dim halo behind her head, hitting her dark hair the right way. And the way her eyes glimmer and burn?
“You’re beautiful,” I mouth, and curse my lack of control a moment later.
Her cheeks turn bright pink, even in the semi-darkness. I should feel ashamed of making her feel this way, but then I can only think of her blushing, flustered body against mine, parted lips gasping for breath...
“Thank you,” she says, her voice small, but her feet bringing her even closer. She walks between my knees. Close. So close I can smell the sweet fragrance of her on her skin. “You look very handsome yourself.”
That breaks the spell. I chuckle. There’s no way she thinks that. “Yes, of course.” And I move the chair away as I get to my feet. “I’m sorry,” I offer, giving her the sweater back. She takes it from my fingers, her fingertips brushing mine. I ignore the jolt they send up my arm.
“There is nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Reynolds,” she insists, tilting her head back to lock her gaze with mine.
My fingers itch to curl around her jaw, hold her in place as I devour her plump lips...
The way she says my name is almost too much.
If she took a step closer, she could feel my cock pushing against my pants, begging to be freed...
I shake my head once to clear away the fog. “Good night, Catalina.” And I leave the dining room, racing back to my office, from where I should have never left.
This can’t go on. I can’t keep torturing myself with these filthy thoughts about this woman. I am not the man for her.