Chapter Six
Matthew felt pretty proud of himself as he left the office at 6:45 pm on the dot. With focus and determination, he had finished all his work by six p.m., got showered and dressed in his private office bathroom (thank you, Mom, for that luxury), and then was on his way to pick up Catherine. Hopefully, she’d be ready because he sure wasn’t taking no for an answer. Not after that kiss. The memory of it would be forever burned in his mind.
To say he'd never felt like this before was an understatement. Sure, he'd had his share of women, but he'd always kept himself at a distance, never dating anyone seriously. He was just too busy, too focused on the future. Sex was a biological need, an itch he needed to scratch.
But with Catherine … this was it. She was his mate. And how he was going to tell her and make her his was going to be difficult. She was human. She didn't understand how fast it was for shifters, how, when their animals chose, that was it. No one else would do, not from this point on.
He had to make it work. He figured it all out in his head. Dinner at Giorgio’s, the Italian restaurant in town. Then maybe dessert and coffee at Rosie’s. Matthew planned to be the perfect gentleman tonight, just to make sure she didn’t have any objections. Take it slow, he told himself. Hell, he’d be glacial if that’s what it took to win her.
Matthew arrived outside Catherine's apartment building and parked in front of the hardware store. He got out of the car, strode to her front door, and pressed the doorbell. He waited for a few moments, then the silence from the other side made him start to wonder if she'd changed her mind.
Footsteps and the jingling of the doorknob made him straighten his shoulders. The door opened, and Catherine peeked out from behind it. With a long sigh, she pushed it wider and stepped out.
“You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” she said as she locked the door behind her. “I hope it’s not anywhere fancy because this is the fanciest thing I own.” She gestured to her outfit.
Matthew stifled a groan. The sweater dress not only made her eyes bluer but clung to her delicious curves. And those knee-high boots over her leggings looked incredibly sexy. He wondered if they would be difficult to take off. "It's … good. It's just a casual Italian restaurant."
She nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Matthew tried not to let her flippancy get to him, but it was maddening to want someone so much and to have them treat you so coldly. Where was the Catherine from last night? The one who responded to his kisses eagerly. He'd even prefer if she resisted and fought him like she did when she was at the bar. He shook his head mentally. Was this the way he had treated the women who hopped in and out of his bed? Someone out there was probably laughing at the karmic justice.
He led her to his Range Rover, opened the door for her, and helped her inside before he went to the driver's side.
Giorgio’s Restaurant was right on Main Street in Downtown Blackstone. The restaurant itself was older than him, as far as Matthew could tell, and the owner, Giorgio, was a good friend of the family’s.
"Matthew Lennox! What a surprise," Giorgio greeted as they entered. Matthew could remember coming here as a little boy for all their special family occasions, and the flamboyant owner looked the same as always—black hair perfectly coiffed, Italian-cut suit fitted to his slim figure, shiny black shoes polished to a mirror shine, and a warm smile. "I saw your name on the reservation list, and I thought you'd be here with your brother or sister." He looked at Catherine. "Not a gorgeous date."
Matthew laughed. “Giorgio, this is Catherine Archer. Catherine, this is Giorgio Allementari, owner of Giorgio’s.”
“Lovely to meet you.”
“Signorina,” Giorgio said with a deep bow. “You honor us with your presence.”
"Uhm, thank you," she said with a sheepish grin.
“Now,” Giorgio began as he took two leather-bound menus from the host’s table, “I’ll be attending to you personally tonight. And I have your usual table, of course.”
“Thank you.”
Giorgio led them to a large, semi-circular booth in a cozy corner of the restaurant. He gestured to the seat, and Catherine scooted in, placing herself on the farthest end while Matthew remained on the other side. Giorgio handed them the menus and excused himself.
“Your usual table, huh?” Catherine said without looking at him, her eyes fixed on the open menu in front of her.
“Family table," he corrected. Did he detect a hint of jealousy? Maybe she wasn't as indifferent as he'd thought. "We've been dining here since I was born." His father called it his "lucky" table, and it was only when he and his siblings were teens that the phrase made sense when Giorgio relayed the story of his parent's first date here. His mother blushed hard, while his father had a nostalgic (and slightly lecherous) smile on his face. Sybil refused to eat at the table for a year.
“Oh, so you know what’s good,” she said, putting the menu down.
“Did you want me to order?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. It’s just food.”
His irritation was growing. Maybe you shouldn’t have tricked her into going out, a voice inside him said. He told the voice to shut up.
Thankfully, Giorgio came back with a bottle of wine. "Our best, as always, Matthew," he said with a flourish as he opened the cork and poured a small measure into a glass.
Matthew tasted the wine and nodded, then Giorgio poured them both a glass. “Giorgio, could you just send us the usual? You know my favorites.”
“Of course, Matthew,” he said with a bow, then turned to Catherine. “I’m sure the signorina will love all of it, as well.”
“I’m sure I will,” she said warmly. “Thank you.”
The indifferent mask on her face slipped back on as soon as Giorgio left. She reached for her wine and took a sip. Her brows wrinkled as she swallowed.
“Good?” he asked.
“Surprisingly,” she said, putting the glass down.
“What, you don’t think this little backwater town has a good wine selection?”
“Ha. Blackstone is not a little ‘backwater’ town.” She looked around, at the decor, at the rest of the diners. Everywhere except at him.
"Oh? Tell me, Catherine, where did you grow up? And why move here?"
Her eyes snapped back to him. For a moment, he saw a flash of something there … something not quite right. Apprehension. Fear. His dragon reared up, wanting to know why she reacted this way. “Well? Are you from Europe? Where did you live?”
“How did you …” She shook her head and grabbed the glass of wine again.
“Keen hearing,” he said, tapping his ear. “You work hard at concealing your accent. I can tell. Or maybe you’ve spent a lot of time stateside so it’s hardly there anymore. Were you born somewhere else? When did you move here?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said with a scowl.
Before she could say anything else, Giorgio came back. "Here you go. Our famous bread with our homemade vinaigrette." He put down a tray with bread and a small bowl with a dark liquid. "Enjoy. I'll be back with your antipasti."
The smell of the fresh-baked bread assaulted his senses, and Matthew couldn't resist. He grabbed a piece of bread, dipped it into the strawberry vinaigrette, and popped a piece into his mouth. Some of the oily liquid dribbled down his chin, and he licked it up. He realized that Catherine had been watching him, her eyes fixed on his lips and tongue. Finally, a reaction.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He scooted closer to her. She was already so far at the end of the bench, the only way she could get away was if she fell off. But she remained seated, her body suddenly going stiff. “Are you ever going to tell me any of your secrets?” he asked. Tentatively, he touched a finger to her cheek. “I want to know more about you, Catherine Archer.”
“There’s no secret, no mystery,” she said, turning her head away.
He moved this finger down to her chin to tip her head back toward him. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And about our kiss last night.”
“Matthew …” Her eyes dropped down to his lips again.
He couldn't stop himself. Nothing could stop him as he bent his head to touch his lips to hers in a tentative kiss. He didn't want to scare her since she already looked like she wanted to bolt. He took it slow, moving his mouth in a soft caress. When her lips parted slightly, he accepted the invitation and slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like wine, and something else. Sweet and spicy, just like last night. Maybe this was a lucky table.
Someone clearing his throat made him pull away from her and slide back to his side of the booth. Catherine let out an adorable squeak of surprise. When he looked up, Matthew saw Giorgio standing by the table, a huge smile on his face.
"I brought you your antipasti platter," he said. Matthew was glad he was enough of a professional not to comment on their canoodling in his restaurant, but there was a twinkle in the old man's eye, one that seemed to say, "Way to go, Matthew!"
“Thank you, Giorgio. Catherine, I—” He frowned when he looked at her. “Catherine are you all right?”
“Huh?” She asked as she scratched her neck. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh … your face …” A red, angry rash had suddenly appeared on her cheeks and neck, one that he was pretty sure wasn’t there before he kissed her.
She opened her mouth and let out a choked gasp. Her eyes went wide, and she looked at Matthew and then down at the bread. "I … I …" She heaved and pointed at the bowl of vinaigrette. "What's in …"
“It’s our very own strawberry vinaigrette,” Giorgio said. “What’s wrong?”
Her mouth fell open. “Straw …” She shook her head.
Matthew's heart dropped, and panic filled his veins as she began to take wheezy breaths. "Catherine! Are you allergic to strawberries?"
She managed a nod before her eyes closed and she slumped forward. He pushed the table away, sending it crashing into a nearby wall as he caught her in his arms.
“Call an ambulance!” he barked to Giorgio. “Wait … never mind.” He knew the fastest way to Blackstone Hospital. He picked her up and started running for the door.
Matthew had never driven so fast in his life. Hell, his dragon was ready to rip out of his skin to fly her to the hospital, but that probably would have taken too much time shifting back and forth. The Blackstone Hospital was only a few blocks away, and he drove like a madman, then carried her into the ER himself. When the nurse saw Catherine's state, she immediately took her in. He didn't want to leave her side, but the stern-faced nurse would not let him go with her into one of the procedure rooms.
The nurse did confirm it was the allergy that had sent her into anaphylactic shock. When he heard the news, the first thing he did was run to the bathroom and scrub his lips raw with that godawful soap they always seem to have in hospitals.
“Will she be all right, Doctor Perkins?” Matthew asked as soon as the doctor arrived in the waiting room.
“She’ll be fine, Mr. Lennox,” Dr. Perkins said. “It’s a good thing you got here quickly. Anaphylaxis can be quite nasty. With such a severe allergy, she really shouldn't be walking around without an epi pen," Dr. Perkins said. "Did you check her purse for one?"
He shook his head. “She didn’t have a purse on her, just her coat.”
“Hmmm … well, I’ll write a prescription. Have her fill it immediately.”
“Can I see her now?”
"Of course. We'll have to keep her overnight if she doesn't have anyone to watch over her. I'm afraid her eyes are still swollen shut." He shook his head. "It's not a pretty sight; I have to warn you. Did she not know she was allergic to strawberries?"
“Uh … I’m not sure. She didn’t say.” He wanted to kick himself. It was the vinaigrette, of course, but she didn’t have any of it. It was from the kiss.
Dr. Perkins led her to one of the rooms down the hall. “Ms. Archer,” he said. “Mr. Lennox is here to see you.” He grabbed the curtains and drew it back.
“What?” came a weak voice. “No, I—”
"Catherine," Matthew said as he walked closer. "Are you—what the hell are you doing?" He expected Catherine to be lying down on the hospital bed, but instead, there was a figure covered from head to toe in a blanket sitting up.
“Don’t look at me!” a muffled voice from under the blanket said.
“Catherine, what’s wrong?” He turned to the doctor. “You said she was fine.”
“She is,” Dr. Perkins said.
“I’m … I look like a monster,” Catherine cried. “Please, just go, Matthew.”
Matthew sighed and walked around to the side of the bed. “Sweetheart … you’re not a monster.”
"You don't know what I look like," she said. "It's awful. I haven’t even seen myself, but I know it's bad."
“Hey … c’mon now …” He grabbed the blanket and tugged at it, but she was holding on tight. “Catherine, I could never think of you as a monster. Besides, I’m the one to blame for this.”
There was a loud sigh from under the blanket, and then it slid away. Most of Catherine's face was swollen. Her eyes were thin slits, and her cheeks had puffed up like a chipmunk’s. Matthew had always thought chipmunks were cute. "Hey, now," he said when she tried to put the blanket up over her head again. "It's okay. It's not that bad," he lied. Not that he cared what she looked like. He'd been scared shitless that she had nearly died. And because of him.
“You’re such a liar, Matthew Lennox,” she said with a pout, or at least Matthew thought it was a pout. It was hard to tell.
“Ms. Archer,” Dr. Perkins began, “we’re keeping you here overnight—”
“What? No!” she protested. “I don’t have insurance or … any money to pay for the stay.”
“It’s taken care of,” Matthew said. It was his fault she was in here in the first place.
“You’re not paying for me,” she said in a serious voice.
“It’s fine,” Matthew insisted.
“I’ll pay you back,” Catherine said. “Every single penny. Just give me the bill.”
Dr. Perkins cleared his throat. “As I was saying, unless you have family or friends to watch over you, we have to keep you here overnight.”
“What? I’m fine. You gave me the shot.”
“Yes, but you can’t see, can you?” Dr. Perkins asked.
“Yes, I can!”
“Then how many fingers and I holding up?”
Catherine paused. “Uhm … two?”
Dr. Perkins shook his head. “I wasn’t holding up any. Which means you’re not fit to be alone. You could fall or hurt yourself. You can’t even walk out of this hospital.”
“But … I don’t want to stay. I … I don’t like hospitals.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And my hospital bill will probably balloon if I stay here one night.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Matthew offered.
“I said—”
“No, I mean, I can stay with you. At home.”
“No!” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Then you’ll have to stay here,” Dr. Perkins said.
"I … I … Fine," she said with a sigh.
"Good. I'll process your discharge papers, and you can be on your way." Dr. Perkins nodded at Matthew and then left.
"So that you know," Matthew began. "Most of my first dates never end up in the ER."
“Most of them?”
"Just a few," he joked. He leaned against the bed and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry. About the kiss. I mean, I'm not sorry about the kiss, but for almost killing you.”
She let out a short laugh. “The kiss of death. This is a first, even for me.” She sighed. “I really will pay you back. All of it.”
“Shhhh … don’t worry about that. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
"And you don't have to stay at home with me. Just toss me into my bed, and you can leave. I'll be fine in the morning."
The image of tossing her into a bed crossed his mind, but she probably imagined it differently than he did. "Nuh-uh. Doctor's orders. What if you need help in the middle of the night?"
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m used to being on my own.”
Matthew frowned. Another layer added to the mystery that was Catherine Archer. Why was it the more time he spent with her, the less he seemed to know about her? But he wasn’t deterred. He was going to peel back all those layers and know the real Catherine.
***
“I told you, I’m fine,” Catherine said as Matthew helped her out of his Range Rover.
“And I told you, I’m still going to help you,” Matthew countered. “Now c’mon, let’s get you up to your apartment.”
Catherine mumbled something under her breath, but let him walk her to the door. He had already fished her keys out of her coat in case she tried to get away (not that she could; her eyes were still swollen shut.) He opened the door to her apartment. “I—Oh.” The door swung inward, and he realized there was a long staircase that led up to the second floor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The stairs.”
"Right." She squared her shoulders. "I'll hold onto the banister and then—hey! Put me down!"
Matthew hadn’t bothered to ask because he was, frankly, tired of fighting her. So, he just picked her up and carried her in his arms as he climbed up the stairs. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but notice how holding her like this felt right. His dragon agreed and rumbled in contentment, breathing in her distinct scent as he buried his nose in her hair. If she noticed, she didn't say anything.
“I … ugh!” She grumbled as he put her down. “Next time, give me a warning if you’re going to go caveman on me.”
“But then it wouldn’t be as fun, right?” he said with a grin. “Now, let’s get you inside.”
“I told you, I’m fine,” she said. “You can go now.”
“Oh, is that so?” He jingled her keys in front of her face. “Okay then, go ahead and let yourself in.”
It took her two attempts to snatch the keys from his hand. Then, she turned around and began to fumble for the door.
Matthew let out a sigh. His mate was stubborn as an ox, but he had to admire her determination. "C'mon now." She didn't even bother to protest when he grabbed the keys and opened the door.
He went inside first, flipping the switch on the wall as he entered.
“I told you it’s shitty,” she said wryly.
“Uhm, it’s … cozy,” he said.
“It’s small.”
The apartment was one room with a futon in the corner, a cabinet, a small coffee table, and an armchair. There was a door in the corner that Matthew assumed was the bathroom, while another doorway led into a kitchenette.
“As you can see, there’s no chance I’ll get lost in this mansion,” she said in a sarcastic tone. “I can find my way to the bed, so go ahead and let yourself out.”
“Stop being stubborn and let me help you,” he said. “Why don’t I start by helping you get ready for bed?”
“Fine,” she said.
He got down on one knee and helped her out of her boots. His fingers brushed her calves, and he smiled with satisfaction when she shivered visibly. After he put her shoes aside, he led her to the bathroom and put some toothpaste on her toothbrush. He left her alone since the bathroom was small enough and he wanted to give her some privacy.
Matthew looked around Catherine’s bare apartment. He couldn’t believe she lived here. But, then again, she was new in town, so she probably hadn’t acquired a lot of stuff yet. His dragon was scratching at him, as if it was mad at him for letting her live here. Well, what am I supposed to do? Move her into the castle? The dragon huffed.
"I'm done," Catherine declared as the door opened. She had removed her socks and her leggings but kept her sweater dress on. He swallowed a gulp as he realized how thin the dress was. He could see the curve of her unbound breasts and her nipples through the fabric. "I just want to go to bed. I—" She stopped short. "You need to go."
“You’re still blind.”
“And there’s … no place for you to sleep!” she said, her face flushing.
“I’ll take the chair.” He gestured to the lone armchair in the corner, though she couldn’t see him.
“You can’t fit in that,” she said.
“Then I can sleep on the bed with you.” His dragon nodded in agreement.
“No! I …” She turned even redder.
“Will you stop being stubborn and just let me help you?” Matthew said in an impatient tone. “Look, this is hard for me to admit, but I feel guilty as hell for what I did to you.”
“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”
“I know, but still … you nearly died tonight. And I’m responsible. Will you just let me make it up to you? Then I won’t bother you anymore.”
Catherine’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.
He guided her to the bed and pulled the covers back, then helped her in. "Good night, Catherine," he said as he pulled the covers over her. She murmured something, then turned on her side.
With one last look at her, Matthew settled himself in the armchair.