Cal glanced in the mirror while he decanted the last of the whiskey they got on that very first night into two glasses. He couldn’t tell what the hell Kat was thinking. She’d chatted and joked with Phonse during dinner, so much so that Cal had felt some little prickles of jealousy. That is, until she made a huge point of moving her chair so close to his that she was almost in his lap and then playing some aggressive footsie under the table. She’d steered the conversation away from anything that had to do with Pickett & Spence or Reynolds Restaurant Group, or really, anything that had to do with work. Cal didn’t blame her one bit.

Now Kat was lounging on the settee, very Hepburn-esque in her pantsuit and tailored blouse, looking pensive and playing with a piece of hair that had come loose from her chignon. Cal assumed she was mulling things over in her head because her lawyer had called right as they were finishing up dinner. Cal went to her, moved her legs and sat down on the small sofa, and handed her a glass before he put her legs back down over his lap. She swirled the whiskey around in the glass as Cal stroked one slender ankle, very conscious of the way her other foot pressed against his crotch.

“Cal.”

He turned toward her at the sound of his name, and she had an almost-predatory glint in those exotic amber eyes of hers. She rocked her heel harder against his burgeoning erection. Cal closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the sofa, enjoying the pressure and rhythm.

“Cal.” He felt the weight of her feet leave his lap.

She was much closer now. Cal cracked open an eye and found her on all fours, crawling toward him. He could see down her blouse—cheetah print in electric teal. Kat crawled into his lap and began to unbutton his shirt as she straddled him, rocking and grinding against him and making all sorts of little noises, which had him wanting to bend her over the back of the couch and take her right there and then. She was scrabbling at his shirt, trying to undo the buttons with one hand while she ripped her own blouse off. She managed this feat, and the next thing Cal knew, her bra was on the lamp and she was pressing her bare breasts against his chest, skin to skin, while she sucked on his neck and his shoulder.

“Cal.” This time, his name sounded raspy, guttural, as she worked to rid him of his trousers. He whooped when she grasped both layers and pulled. His cock had no sooner been exposed than it was in her hot, wet mouth, almost down her throat.

“Holy fuck, Kat,” he gasped. “Holy shit.”

She came up for air. Her lips were swollen and her chest heaved, but she chuckled and said, “Let me do this,” before engulfing him again. Cal fought against thrusting, but when she slid her hands around his ass cheeks to give herself more leverage, he did—shallowly at first, but finally fucking her mouth because she wanted him to. Cal felt a familiar pressure in his lower back, and suddenly, he knew he had to have her. Cal pulled Kat’s face away, her mouth loosening her grip on his cock with a pop. He paused with his hands on the button of her waistband, looking up at her, asking. She nodded, her pants disappeared, and then she was guiding him inside as she straddled him. Cal kissed her hard as he made the first thrust, pulling her hair, which had completely escaped its bindings. Her cries of pleasure were edged with the tiniest bit of pain as she rode him. He gripped her so hard that he knew her fair skin would be bruised the next day, but she demanded it of him, pleading with him when he let up his punishing pace. Somehow, they ended up on the floor, Kat on her back with her ankles by Cal’s ears and him rocking deep, deep inside her. He looked where their bodies joined, became one, and realized he wasn’t wearing a condom.

“Fuck, Kat,” he ground out, ceasing to move. He felt her flex around him, and he placed his hand on her mound. “Baby, no condom.”

“Pill. I’m on the pill.” She flexed again, and that little twinkle returned to her gaze. “Let’s finish this, mister.”

Cal didn’t move for a moment, weighing what she was saying, the amount of trust they were putting in each other. And then he began to move with slow, languid motions designed to drive her to the brink. She thrashed against him as he rocked in and out. Then he bent down at caught her mouth in a hard kiss, each thrust of his hips bumping against her most sensitive bundle of nerves. She wrapped herself around him, and when he didn’t think he could last a moment longer, he heard her breathing change, a quiet moan that built into a cry, and then he let himself go to soar with her.

“Kat,” he moaned into her ear. “Kathleen.” He kept repeating her name as his body slowed, until finally, they lay on the floor, completely still, wrapped around each other and whispering the other’s name.

´*•.¸(*•.¸ *¸.•*´)¸.•*´

Cal didn’t remember moving to the bed, but when he woke with a start, he was under the covers. He sat up in the bed and found Kat wearing a sheepish grin and his dress shirt, and, damn, she looked good. She had a butter knife and a plate in her hand, and she glanced at a plate cover, which he assumed was responsible for the noise.

“Our late lunch was hours ago, and I got a little hungry, so I ordered some food.” She gave him another grin and climbed over the bed, plate still in her hand.

“Banger?” she asked, waggling the sausage in front of his face before taking a bite out of it, leading Cal to cup his own personal sausage protectively. Kat cackled and settled into the crook of his arm and laid her head on his shoulder.

They sat there in the bed, nestled together, nibbling on the food Kat brought to their nest and sharing kisses. Cal set the empty plate on the nightstand and turned to Kat, who moved very close to him and looped her arms around his neck.

“You okay?” She was playing with the curls at the base of his hairline, running her fingers through his hair and dragging her fingernails lightly along his scalp.

“My old man died and I kind of fell apart. It wasn’t unexpected. He got a terminal diagnosis and they gave him six weeks. Of course, the sumbitch lasted eighteen months.” That comment got a smile out of Kat, which, of course, made him smile, because her grin was contagious. “There’s a whole lot of bullshit I’m not going to go into, but I came into some money, and Amanda started hinting that we should make it official. And I thought, ‘Well, why the fuck not? I mean, I’m a forty-fucking-five-year-old professional bartender, and this twenty-three-year-old debutante wants to marry me? Hell, I’m not gonna have a better option.’ ”

“Twenty-three?!” Kat gaped at him before scowling. “You should have known better.”

Cal snorted and kissed Kat on the nose. “I should have, and I did, really, but I ignored all the little warning signs of her cheating and her gold-digging.”

“And so what happened, baby?” Kat had resumed running her fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp, so he closed his eyes and just . . . talked. Talked about how his preoccupation satisfying his young bride-to-be and her demands distracted him from building the business. Recounted those awful first few days after the discovery when he wouldn’t get out of bed, and how those days turned into weeks.

“So how did . . .?”

“I’d been pumping seed money into the restaurant, basically keeping it afloat. When it came time to pay for the wedding of a marriage that didn’t last, I was stuck with the bill—because I insisted I was man enough to pay for a silly girl’s extravagant dream wedding, right?—and was too busy wallowing to care about what was really important and too damn selfish enough to think about my best friend, who was stuck trying to make this dream of his, of ours, a reality. I just handed over everything to the man who took my wife. I really didn’t get that until today.”

Kat snuggled in close and squeezed him tight. Cal slipped his hand under the shirt she wore, and was pleased to find out that she was nude beneath it. He cradled her rump in his hand and was rewarded with a throaty laugh.

“Are you going to be all right, Cal?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. We Harpers are a resilient bunch. Soon as I get back, I’ve got a gig lined up with another pub. It’s more traditional, but it’s struggling, mainly because they undercharge like crazy. It’s got good bones and a regular clientele, though, so it’s salvageable.”

“Fixing this other bar isn’t going to take away the crap with Pickett and Spence, you know.”

Cal barked a laugh. “Damn, you are a straight shooter, Kat Fahey.” He kissed her forehead and then turned and nudged her face up so he could place a kiss on her lips. “I really like that about you. You call me on my shit.” Then he kissed her again.

Cal sighed and spent the next few moments playing with Kat’s hair and thinking. “Yeah, I know it won’t. But I can help this crew out, so I am. You know?”

“I know,” Kat said, smiling sweetly at him.

“So what about you?”

“Oh, I am starting to seriously look for a new job, and quick, like ASAP. But I’ll be okay. Everything will work out. ‘If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.’ What? What is that face?”

Cal stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Our mother had a plaque in the kitchen that said that. Haven’t thought about that in years.”

“Well, I firmly believe that. It’s a philosophy that’s worked for me so far.”

Kat pet his face, stroking the stubble on his cheeks, and Cal found himself wanting to tell her to move to Atlanta, which was crazy, right? They’d known each other for four days. Four days. But this . . . thing . . . they were having seemed so . . . real. Much more real than his relationship with Amanda. Cal swallowed hard and noticed that Kat was back to chewing her lip. She huffed a little sigh and mouthed a silent, “I know.” Cal had no option but to pull her close and make love to her to thank her for giving him this week.