Read Online Cat's Lair by Christine Feehan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Feehan
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lessons with you.”
“You didn’t.”
That brought her head up. Her eyes met his and that was a terrible mistake. A really, really bad mistake. Heat moved through her. Not moved. Rushed like a fireball right through her veins and settled low in her body, until her feminine core pulsed with need. She let her breath out and took another sip of espresso.
“I don’t let people into my life. Especially not a man the rest of the world is going to notice.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She settled back in her chair, frowning at him, lifting her fork to gesture toward him. “Ridley, come on, you’re gorgeous. You’re the kind of man other men step aside for. Women can’t take their eyes off of you. You have scars and tats and you move like sheer poetry. Everyone looks when you walk into a room. You have presence. I can’t be walking around with that. So I’m not going to ask for private lessons even if you’re the best there is. Besides” – she smirked at him – “I can’t afford you.”
Ridley took another bite of the poached eggs covered in hollandaise sauce. She was killing him. She gave him compliments a woman should never give to a man without knowing if he was hers and she did it matter-of-factly, no flirting. She didn’t think she was complimenting him, just stating a fact. All the while she did it, her unruly hair tumbled in sheets of waves like a waterfall. Her face was animated, her amazing cobalt blue eyes, so dark they were brilliant, seemed to hold the key to paradise. A man would want to look into her eyes, watch them change, haze over while he buried himself hard and deep inside of her.
She was sexy without trying. Innocent without knowing she was. Lethal as hell to any man with eyes in his head. And scared out of her mind. Still, he was sitting across from her at her breakfast table, eating the most amazing breakfast of his life, and he was finding his way in. Slowly. Carefully. Feeling his way.
“You don’t need money to get private lessons, Kitten. Your food will always be enough for a fair exchange. Half the time I eat at a diner or out of a box. I’m no cook.”
“What are you? What do you do?”
“Security.” He shrugged, a casual roll of his shoulders. “Work for a company and we get sent out on different types of jobs.”
She frowned at him. He found her frown adorable but refrained from saying so.
“Like the security sitting in an office building looking at computer monitors to make certain no one’s stealing anything? That kind of security? Or the kind that puts you in the path of a bullet because you’re guarding someone else.”
Catarina’s blue eyes moved over his face, and his entire body tightened. Lethal as hell she was. His body was full and hard just from one look under her long sweeping lashes.
“I do install systems once in a while,” he admitted, “but I’ve never actually sat in front of a monitor in an office building.”
She slid her lips over her fork, a completely innocent gesture, but his groin throbbed in response. “So the take-a-bullet-for-someone-else kind of security.”
He shrugged, concentrating on breathing.
She shook her head. “You’re nuts, you know. Taking bullets for other people is just plain nuts. Is that other person worth more than you are? No.” That was firm. She leaned toward him, gesturing with her fork again. “The answer, Ridley, is no. They aren’t. I don’t care how rich they are or how famous. They aren’t more important than you are. You have no business risking your life like that.”
“It pays well.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Now you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.” She sat back again and sipped at her espresso, watching him carefully over the rim of the mug.
“Well. Yeah. I have to admit when you get all fired up with that attitude of yours, I’m a goner for you. That does it for me the way Zen does it for you.”
She burst out laughing. “Eat a beignet,
“You didn’t.”
That brought her head up. Her eyes met his and that was a terrible mistake. A really, really bad mistake. Heat moved through her. Not moved. Rushed like a fireball right through her veins and settled low in her body, until her feminine core pulsed with need. She let her breath out and took another sip of espresso.
“I don’t let people into my life. Especially not a man the rest of the world is going to notice.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She settled back in her chair, frowning at him, lifting her fork to gesture toward him. “Ridley, come on, you’re gorgeous. You’re the kind of man other men step aside for. Women can’t take their eyes off of you. You have scars and tats and you move like sheer poetry. Everyone looks when you walk into a room. You have presence. I can’t be walking around with that. So I’m not going to ask for private lessons even if you’re the best there is. Besides” – she smirked at him – “I can’t afford you.”
Ridley took another bite of the poached eggs covered in hollandaise sauce. She was killing him. She gave him compliments a woman should never give to a man without knowing if he was hers and she did it matter-of-factly, no flirting. She didn’t think she was complimenting him, just stating a fact. All the while she did it, her unruly hair tumbled in sheets of waves like a waterfall. Her face was animated, her amazing cobalt blue eyes, so dark they were brilliant, seemed to hold the key to paradise. A man would want to look into her eyes, watch them change, haze over while he buried himself hard and deep inside of her.
She was sexy without trying. Innocent without knowing she was. Lethal as hell to any man with eyes in his head. And scared out of her mind. Still, he was sitting across from her at her breakfast table, eating the most amazing breakfast of his life, and he was finding his way in. Slowly. Carefully. Feeling his way.
“You don’t need money to get private lessons, Kitten. Your food will always be enough for a fair exchange. Half the time I eat at a diner or out of a box. I’m no cook.”
“What are you? What do you do?”
“Security.” He shrugged, a casual roll of his shoulders. “Work for a company and we get sent out on different types of jobs.”
She frowned at him. He found her frown adorable but refrained from saying so.
“Like the security sitting in an office building looking at computer monitors to make certain no one’s stealing anything? That kind of security? Or the kind that puts you in the path of a bullet because you’re guarding someone else.”
Catarina’s blue eyes moved over his face, and his entire body tightened. Lethal as hell she was. His body was full and hard just from one look under her long sweeping lashes.
“I do install systems once in a while,” he admitted, “but I’ve never actually sat in front of a monitor in an office building.”
She slid her lips over her fork, a completely innocent gesture, but his groin throbbed in response. “So the take-a-bullet-for-someone-else kind of security.”
He shrugged, concentrating on breathing.
She shook her head. “You’re nuts, you know. Taking bullets for other people is just plain nuts. Is that other person worth more than you are? No.” That was firm. She leaned toward him, gesturing with her fork again. “The answer, Ridley, is no. They aren’t. I don’t care how rich they are or how famous. They aren’t more important than you are. You have no business risking your life like that.”
“It pays well.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Now you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.” She sat back again and sipped at her espresso, watching him carefully over the rim of the mug.
“Well. Yeah. I have to admit when you get all fired up with that attitude of yours, I’m a goner for you. That does it for me the way Zen does it for you.”
She burst out laughing. “Eat a beignet,
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