Kat smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt as she stood at the entrance of the hotel’s supper club, waiting for Cal to appear. She was early—like, really early. Early enough to have had two strong cocktails at the pub across the way before coming here, which might not have been such a good idea, because she had a tendency to be a flirty tippler. Kat snorted. “Flirty” was an understatement, and considering that she’d practically pawed him on the airplane after having half a glass of wine, well, she probably needed to stick with tonic for the rest of the evening.
Oh, please, Kathleen, Kat’s bad angel whispered in her ear. Cut the crap. If there’s a time and place to be flirty-drunk, this is it. And you know that slab of Southern goodness that is Cal Harper is exactly who you need to slut it up with.
She’d been thrumming with anticipation since “the jackass” had convinced her that he really, truly was asking her to dinner and not just trying to piss Topher off. Kat shook her head with mortification. I can’t believe I said he was a jackass. Thank goodness Cal took her comment in stride. In fact, he seemed to readily accept her classification. She didn’t quite know what to think about that, so instead, she obsessed about what to wear, wanting to not look like the complete square that she was. She ended up choosing a bronze sequined skirt that was a bit too much for everyday wear, a tailored white blouse, and her favorite metallic heels. She even wore her hair down. She felt like a princess, or Cinderella on her way to the ball, or someone other than Kathleen Maeve Fahey, the bean counter.
She was just contemplating a run to the bar to have one more stiff drink when she saw Cal round the corner at a brisk trot. He wasn’t late at all, but she appreciated the fact that he wanted to be early. He halted in front of the bar, looked at his watch, and then glanced at the restaurant where she stood. Kat gave him a tentative wave, and Cal gave her the biggest, most appreciative smile she’d ever received. No one had ever smiled at her like that, and what was more, he kept that grin on his face as he crossed the big lobby.
“Should’ve known you’d be Punctual Patty,” Cal murmured after he brushed his lips across her cheek in greeting. “Boy, look at you.”
“Ta-da,” Kat did a little dance move, then grimaced. Oh God, Fahey, you are such a dork. But Cal didn’t seem to notice, because the grin was still there, and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of her. “You clean up well yourself.”
And he did. As well as the jeans and Henley he was wearing earlier fit him, he was a man who was made for a suit. Or rather, the suit was most likely made for him, because the tailoring was impeccable. From the tip of his carefully shined shoes to the perfectly knotted silk tie, he looked every inch the epitome of a successful man.
Son of a ham sandwich.
“Shall we go in?” Cal grinned bigger, and Kat felt like laughing like a loon, so she just nodded and allowed him to guide her inside.
Get it, girl.
´*•.¸(*•.¸ *¸.•*´)¸.•*´
After a lovely supper where they’d explored more of the basics, Cal and Kat moved to the lounge and settled into a leather love seat with a bottle of whiskey, and they’d talked more, about more intimate subjects.
Cal couldn’t stop looking at or touching her. She was gorgeous and goofy, and sexy as hell, and he was absolutely smitten. The curve of her neck, her delicate earlobe, and the fine lines of her wrist proved irresistible—he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Kat seemed to be afflicted with the same condition, because even as Cal peppered the length of her forearm with tiny kisses, Kat’s long fingers curled around the back of his skull and twined in his hair.
“Well, well, well, you two are looking very cozy.” That ass Topher loomed over their little nook, and once again, Cal itched to punch the guy in the gonads. “We missed you at the opening dinner. Mr. Harper, it was gracious of you to sponsor an event that you didn’t even attend.”
Cal did not loosen his grip on Kat’s wrist until she indicated that he should. She sat up and straightened her blouse, all the while keeping those exotic amber eyes fixed on the dick that seemed hell-bent on ruining their evening.
“Well, I like to do my part,” Cal drawled. “I would have gone to the dinner, but you know how it is: a bunch of self-congratulatory blowhards patting themselves on the back and trying to convince everyone, including themselves, that this whole thing is worth the outrageous fees they charge.” Cal risked brushing Kat’s fingers with his, and he saw the ghost of a smile and received a whisper of a touch back. Yeah, Kat was more than all right. “Though, the conference seems to have more intriguing attendees this year.”
“You’ll be at the follow-up meeting in the morning, Kat?”
Cal bristled at the other man’s tone, and he absolutely did not like the way Topher was looking at Kat nor the way that Kat wouldn’t meet Topher’s eyes.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course I’ll be there. The Wicklow Distillery account is the reason I’m here, right? I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow morning.”
Topher looked like he was going to say something else but thought better of it and simply nodded before walking away. After he was gone, Kat poured herself another whiskey and quickly downed it. Cal rubbed her back, and slowly she relaxed and sank into his side.
“He’s more than just a coworker, isn’t he?” Cal murmured the question against Kat’s hair as he tried to figure out the scent that permeated her auburn tresses.
“He’s my ex-husband.”
Cal was so shocked that he accidentally sucked a hank of her hair into his mouth. “Your ex-husband?”
Kat huffed a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. We got married right out of college. I’m better at my job than he is, and his parents like me more. I stayed on after the divorce was final on the condition that I never had to work directly with him. It’s worked out except for this last project.”
“Well, damn. How long . . . ?”
“Oh, we’ve been divorced for fifteen years. He gets some sort of perverse pleasure from parading his endless harem of bimbos through my office. He thinks it makes me jealous.”
“That dude is a grade-A dick and a fool to boot.”
Kat didn’t agree, but she didn’t disagree. “So, since we’ve broached this, Cal Harper, what about you?”
Cal grunted. Here goes. “The event I sponsored was supposed to be a delayed reception dinner.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Oh, really?” was her frosty statement. He couldn’t fault her. He would have had the same “What the actual fuck?” response at learning the person pawing him was recently married.
“It was over before it really began. I found out she was cheating on our wedding day. I never moved into the house I bought her, filed for divorce the Tuesday after the wedding—Monday was a holiday. I’ve been divorced for four months and twenty-nine days.”
Kat had been chewing on her lip while he was explaining his pitiful matrimonial history, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He cupped her chin in his hand and thumbed her lower lip. She leaned into him, and Cal pressed his lips against hers.
“Kat.”
“Yes.”
“I want to ask—”
“I said yes, Cal.”
Cal grinned, and then he stood up. Kat’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she took his offered hand. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the low table, and they headed to the elevator.