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Wand held high, Ashlynn stepped back to inspect her work. She tilted her head to one side, her brown curls hitting the right shoulder. She tilted the other way, curls brushing the left.
“Lip stain instead of lipstick,” she concluded, digging into the bag. “This will last through the afternoon, through a few bouts in the sea and at least one hot kiss.”
“I’m going with Taylor,” Cat reminded her, speaking carefully so as not to move the lips being stained. “No plans to kiss.”
“Plans can change,” Ashlynn said, waggling the stain in Cat’s face. “And when they do, your lips can handle them.”
Cat pressed her lips together, wondering how they’d feel if Taylor deemed them ready. Her stomach did a little dance before she could stop it. Crazy, she told herself. She wasn’t going to be kissing Taylor on their fake date.
“What are you doing?” she asked when Ashlynn moved around the chair behind her. “Hey, that’s my braid.”
“Who wears their hair in a braid on a date?”
“Someone going to the beach,” Cat ventured with a sigh. Yet another reason why she wouldn’t be kissing Taylor. Fake date or not, she simply wasn’t girly enough to even know that braids were a dating no-no.
“You wear your hair in either a ponytail or a braid all the time. Tonight, you loosen it up.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going out with Taylor Powell.”
“Why are you so excited about this?” Cat frowned, wishing she could touch her face. It felt normal. She dropped her bottom lip, opened her mouth wide, shifted her chin from side to side. It even moved. “You’re more excited about this than I am.”
“That’s because I’m seeing the possibilities while you’re talking yourself out of them.”
“What!” Closing her mouth so fast her teeth snapped together, Cat frowned. A part of her was relieved that she could.
“You need to spend time with a guy who isn’t intimidated by your strength. You need to have some fun, and by fun I mean with people who don’t use hammers for a living. And most of all,” Ashlynn said as she twisted pieces of Cat’s hair back while leaving the rest loose, “you need sex.”
“Sex?” Cat would have laughed if she wasn’t afraid Ashlynn might pull her hair out. “You think this date is going to net me some sex?”
A tiny bead of sweat dotted her upper lip. Cat felt as if a giant elephant was sitting on her chest, squishing out all of the air. The very idea of her and sex and Taylor in the same thought made her dizzy. A good kind of dizzy.
“Taylor Powell is a hottie and you’ve been crushing on him for years. If you feel like you look good, you’ll be more inclined to act on your crush. You act on it, you might get laid. You get laid, you’ll be able to tell me if all those rumors about Taylor’s sexual prowess are fact or fiction.”
Cat’s laughter chased away the dizziness. “Gossip?”
“I live for gossip,” Ashlynn claimed in a breathy voice as she fluffed the hair around Cat’s face. “Besides, I figure if you start having regular sex, you’ll loosen up a little. Once you loosen up, you’ll be ready for changes. You need changes.”
Cat was silent as she tried to process all of that.
“I’m not leaving Peres Construction,” she finally said. “And my chances of having sex on this date? Do a snowball and hell have any meaning to you?”
“Whatever you say.” Ashlynn tossed the brush into the bag with her makeup before gesturing to the mirror. “What do you think?”
Cat hesitated for a brief second then got to her feet. There was no point pushing. Ashlynn liked to speak her mind, but she never spoke it unless she wanted to. Cat could beat against that wall of stubbornness, but she had a date picking her up in ten minutes. Besides, the argument would be pointless. Cat wasn’t going to leave Peres Construction. And no matter what Ashlynn said, she wouldn’t be having sex with Taylor—except in her favorite dreams.
“Whoa.” She leaned closer to the mirror, then back, then close again. “I look like me. Me, only...”
Better?
“Stronger.”
Oh. Cat narrowed her eyes. Stronger was good. Her eyes looked sexy, smudged at the corners so they looked bluer. Her lips looked fuller, her cheekbones a little sharper. Instead of the weird curls she’d thought she’d have, her hair was simply full, soft, waving around her face in a dark gold cloud.
Okay. She wasn’t leaving Peres Construction.
But maybe she and the snowball would both get lucky.
* * *
TENSION THROBBED, LOW and ugly, at the base of Taylor’s neck, the roar of his Harley not doing its usual job of massaging it away.
He shouldn’t have gone by to check on Mouse. Definitely not while the guy was on duty. That dumb-ass move had only shaken Bertowski; Taylor had seen it on the other man’s face. His own lame-ass worry had put the other man off his stride, had probably done more harm than the damned mission itself. He’d claimed he was just there to invite Mouse to join them at the beach, that they could all use a break. Mouse had brushed him off like a bad habit.
So Taylor had done the only thing he could. He’d shoved his worries back into their corner of his mind, slammed the door on it and got on with the day.
He hadn’t lied, though. Nothing said relaxation like a day at the beach. Maybe the sun would relax the stress out of his head better than the bike had worn away at his tension.
And nothing guaranteed a relaxing day at the beach than an ace in the hole. Taylor pulled into Cat’s driveway, ready to pick up his ace and get the day started. If nothing else, Cat would be one hell of a fun distraction.
He’d only been here once, back when he’d been corralled into helping Cat move in. But it was easy to see that the carpenter fairy had been working her magic. The cracked driveway had been repaved with a stamped cobblestone design. She hadn’t replaced the overgrowth of dead plants, tree stumps or parched crabgrass that had passed for a yard the last time he was here, but she had cleared them away.
It was hard to picture Cat here, he thought as he leaned on the doorbell. This was a grown-up place. Whenever he’d thought about Cat over the years, he’d always pictured the skinned-knee kid in cutoff overalls with grease on her chin. She’d been a cute kid. Smart and funny.
Despite that image, he knew he could count on her. He trusted few in the same way he trusted his team. But he trusted Cat.
She was that kind of friend.
Before he could wonder where his friend was, the door swung open.
“Hi there, Taylor.”
“Ashlynn?” He smiled once he’d placed her. The bubbly brunette had moved into the house three doors down from his mom’s fourteen, fifteen years back. “How’ve you been?”
“Doing good but running late. Cat’s almost ready. Why don’t you go on inside?” Ashlynn said, giving him a hug and heading down the sidewalk like a brunette whirlwind.
Wondering if the woman ever slowed down, Taylor was grinning as he strode into Cat’s place.
Whoa. Impressed, he looked around. He remembered the place as a hive of small, dark rooms covered in ugly flowered wallpaper and stained carpet.
She’d opened it up. The walls were pale blue trimmed in glossy white with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the back. The furniture looked Scandinavian with blond wood, sleek curves and narrow lines. Books leaned against each other in the bookcase. A pair of work boots lay under the coffee table and another pair was tucked in the corner, along with a baseball bat and glove. The dining table had the inner workings of what looked like a toaster spread over newspaper and a half dozen rolls of blueprints on top. And, proving that Cat was a smart woman with great taste, a big-screen TV covered one wall.
He’d never really considered Cat’s decorating style, but he wasn’t surprised to find her taste ran to the simple and bright. As he wandered over to check out the view of the backyard, Cat stepped into the room, her scent, light and fresh, arriving a second ahead of her.
Taylor turned to say hi but he couldn’t get the word passed the knot in his throat.
Was that really Cat?
“Hey, Taylor.”
It was Cat’s voice, the husky timbre easy and cheerful.
But the rest?
A sexy goddess stood in the doorway, hair flowing like molten gold over strong shoulders, framing a face he’d known for years and suddenly didn’t know at all.
The Cat he knew had blue eyes, yeah. But not sultry eyes framed by lush black lashes.
The Cat he knew had a wide smile and a cute overbite, but he’d never noticed her full, pouty pink lips before.
And the Cat he knew might be a woman, but he’d never—not in the twenty years he’d known her—seen her in a dress. If he had ever stretched his imagination far enough to think of her in one—which he hadn’t—he wouldn’t have imagined her in a clinging sundress with a laced-up bodice. As baffling as Cat and sexy was in his head, Cat and laces was even weirder.
Laces were meant to be unlaced. They were a sexy invitation, an alluring dare.
Both of which he needed to ignore.
But weird or not, the dress suited her. The denim hugged her chest and a surprisingly tiny waist before dropping in an easy line down her hips to midcalf. Instead of the work boots or tennis shoes he’d always seen her in, she was wearing strappy brown sandals.
Her toenails were turquoise.
Taylor stared at her toenails for a long moment, trying to figure out why that, of all the changes, threw him the most.
Where the hell was the Cat he knew? The sweet, unobtrusive tomboy with the sassy ponytail. The easygoing girl next door whom he never actually thought of as a real girl. The unthreateningly unsexy, unassuming friend he’d planned to use as a diversion.
“Taylor?” Cat asked, prodding him with a fist to the shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Fine. We’re on the bike, though.”
“Will this fit?” Cat lifted the small canvas cooler off the table. “I’ve got bungee cords if you’re willing to strap it onto the back of the bike. Or I can hold it if you’re picky about what touches your chrome.”
He was more picky about who touched his chrome than what touched it.
Not what she meant, he told himself. Cat didn’t flirt and he was damned sure she wouldn’t appreciate him imagining her polishing his pole.
“You cooked?” he asked, hoping for a distraction.
“As if.” Cat laughed, pushing one hand through those long, loose curls. “I raided my mom’s freezer for cannoli and the cookie jar for biscotti. Dessert.”
Dessert. Taylor didn’t have much of a sweet tooth but he was suddenly starving for whatever Cat had.
In the bag, he mentally corrected. He was starving for what was in the bag.
“Taylor?” she said slowly, the tone both puzzled and amused. As if she knew he was confused and liked it.
“Dessert sounds good. Bring the bungee cords. You’ll be more comfortable that way.” He frowned. Then, unable to resist, added, “Maybe you should change.”
Of their own volition, his eyes dropped to her chest again, appreciating the way the delicately flowered cotton fabric cupped the gentle swell of her breasts. His fingers tingled with the need to reach out and skim over the softly tanned flesh, to untie the slender leather bow lacing the corset-styled bodice closed.
“Change?” Cat echoed, frowning down at herself. Her hands skimmed from waist to hips, folding the material against her body in a way that made Taylor want to groan. “Is there something wrong with this dress? Is it too fancy? Too casual? Too what?”
Too damned sexy.
“I’ve got my bike,” was all he said.
“No problem.” She shrugged before gathering the skirt in both hands and lifting it higher. Not high enough to show anything interesting, though. “I’m wearing my swimsuit underneath, and this skirt is full enough that I can straddle the bike.”
The word straddle sent myriad images through his mind, but Taylor shoved them right back out. He had no business thinking about Cat rising naked over his body as she straddled him. She was his friend. His younger friend. The daughter of his mother’s best friend, even.
Any one of those put her off-limits.
The three combined put her on the no-fly list.
“Let’s get going,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. A strong man, he used his training to keep his eyes off her butt as she walked in front of him.
This was good. Better than good, he told himself with a scowl. Cat looking hot would make a better impression on the ladies, if only because she was exactly the type they’d all try to hook him up with. Sexy and good-looking but sweet with a big helping of nice.
As long as he stayed focused on the nice and not the swing of her hips, everything would be fine.
“No purse?” he asked, realizing its absence when they reached the bike.
“Purse?” Cat laughed. “I don’t even own one.”
And there she was. The Cat he knew. As much to shake off the edgy need that had grabbed him by surprise as to play along, Taylor gave an exaggerated shake of his head.
“Seriously? Where’d you hide all that stuff women can’t leave home without?”
He automatically looked her up and down. Big mistake, since the visual tour made his fingers tingle again. What kind of swimsuit was she wearing under there? Bikini? One of those one-pieces cut high on the thigh and, his eyes lingered on the hint of cleavage, cut low to show her breasts?
“I have pockets,” Cat said, tucking her hands into them to prove it. She pulled her keys out of one pocket, a small leather wallet and her cell phone out of the other. “Everything I need.”
“You’re one of a kind, Kitty Cat.” Taylor grinned. “One of a kind.”
“Much to my mother’s dismay.” She gave an admiring nod at the bike. “When did you get this?”
“Couple of months ago. We can take your truck instead if you’re worried about your hair.”
Cat laughed.
“You’re kidding, right?” She pulled a band off her wrist that he’d taken for a bracelet. “I’m always prepared.”
“Still mad they wouldn’t let you into the Boy Scouts?”
“You know it.” As she spoke, she made quick work of pulling her hair back. Her fingers flew as she formed a braid. With both hands behind her head, her movements did the most intriguing things to that dress.
Didn’t matter, Taylor reminded himself. What was going on underneath was none of his business.
“Helmet,” he said, handing her his spare.
