Caught in the Act (The Davenports) (14 page)

She quickly straightened, leveling a first-class glare his way when he laughed at her.

“Really, Brody. The way you had those kids in line at the museum the other day, I’d have expected more from you. Far less . . .
clutter
.”

She could be such a snob. “My books aren’t clutter, babe. I know exactly where each and every one of them is.” He peered down at the floor, rubbing his fingers over his jaw as he contemplated. Then he lifted his head and retracted his statement. “Or I did know where they were. Before you messed them up.”

It was funny the way her nostrils flared at him. He merely grinned back at her.

“You did not know where everything was,” she argued halfheartedly.

“Sure I did. I have a system.”

“There’s no system here. You’re simply a slob.”

“Yet the rest of my house is clean.”

He had an excellent point, and he knew it. He even saw when she registered it. The rest of his house was orderly, if not in pristine condition. She quit glaring at him long enough to look around at the open space of the rooms, where there was little more than the necessities lying about. It made him suddenly nervous, her scrutinizing him in that way. It had been a long time since he’d brought a woman to his house, and he’d never brought one over who mattered.

Finally, Cat turned back to him. “It’s just your books. Why?”

“I like to read. I get lost in it sometimes.”

She shook her head as if disgusted with him, but the crinkle at the corners of her eyes gave her away. “You are such a nerd,” she muttered.

“Yeah.” He shot her a wicked look and brought one of her palms to his mouth. “But if I remember correctly, that was one of the things you once liked best about me.”

She lowered her gaze to the spot where he touched her hand. “I was,” she confirmed, her eyes remaining on his mouth, “quite fond of your brain. It was fun when you went all cerebral on me.”

He worked his lips to her inner wrist. “And it was cute watching you hang on my every word when I did.”

She actually flushed at that.

“Damn, Cat.” He scooped her against him. “I’ve missed you and I didn’t even know it.”

Her head bobbed up and down. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He kissed her then. Because, honestly, he should have kissed her when he’d walked into the house. And because she looked so soft and kissable, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

But mostly he kissed her because he’d missed her. For nineteen long years he’d wished she was in his arms. “Come take a shower with me,” he urged. After his run, he needed a second shower. And he wanted his hands on her while he took it.

Her eyelids were hooded. “I’ve already showered.”

“Then help me wash my back.”

She peered up through her lashes, the look a mix of heated lust and wanton woman, and he whimpered like a baby. Good Lord, he’d loved this woman once. Even in his hormone-fueled teenage mind, he’d known what they’d had was special. He couldn’t imagine having years to spend with mornings exactly like this one. Him finding her here, mixed in with his things. Her looking at him like that.

Every day, her being his.

“Help me with my back?” he whispered against her neck as he kissed the spot he’d found last night that she liked so much.

“Yes,” she breathed out. The single word was one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.

He nodded, and he suddenly knew that these twelve days had the potential of ending very badly. He could fall in love with her again. Whether he believed in love anymore or not, he somehow suspected that she could change the playing field on him. Because this was Cat. And because she’d had him wrapped around her little finger since the first day they’d met.

CHAPTER TWELVE

C
AT PULLED TO
the side of the road of the soon-to-be park and turned off the ignition. Then she sat in the sedan, thinking about how the morning had gone. And the night before.

And then the morning again. In the shower.

In a word, spectacular. The man was a giver, and he knew what he was doing.

Her body ached in places that hadn’t seen action in years, and her spirits seemed to be permanently up. That was all Brody. He made her body sing and her mind laugh. He made life more fun.

He also made taking off her clothes something she wanted to do again. Many times.

After he’d pulled her limp but sated body from the shower that morning, they’d begun working through his play. They’d started with her dialogue, but had ended up making changes for several other characters as well.

In the end, Brody had seemed pleased with the result.

She had, too, only now she had even more lines to learn.

She’d suggested that he try getting Ben Searcy up again, but Brody had declined. It frustrated her, because she wanted to see him get everything he desired. And the play was really good. If she didn’t think he would get angry about it, she’d call the producer herself. See what she could do.

But she knew better. Brody was proud. He wanted to do things himself.

She couldn’t blame him, she supposed. Knowing your accomplishments were your own was empowering. But when she could make one call and potentially get the man to head north, it was a hard pill to swallow to have to sit on her hands.

After their call-don’t-call conversation, Brody had headed off for his class with plans to drop off the revised script to Clyde on the way, and Cat had returned to her house to continue running through the changes—where she’d ended up ignoring yet more calls from her mother. She was determined to pull off a much better performance that night. Which would be easier if she were still back at the house practicing now, but she couldn’t avoid the park any longer.

Sharon, the project manager she’d flown up from Atlanta, had been on the job for six days, and though she’d kept Cat up to date through daily calls and e-mails, Cat knew she needed to make an appearance. It was part of the expectations when making a family donation such as this. Plus, they had only two and a half weeks left to get the park in a usable state. There was no time for even the tiniest slipup. It was best to check out the progress herself on a semiregular basis.

As she climbed from her “boring little sedan”—as Brody would call it—she noted the small clump of people standing in the shade of a tree. Reporters.

Lovely.

But it wasn’t as if she could ignore them. She was news up here.

Between the park donation and construction, and now being in the play, there would likely be cameras showing up more and more. Which was why she’d pushed Brody to keep their affair behind closed doors. She knew the media would be looking for anything that would make a juicy story. She didn’t want to be the one in her family to give it to them.

She only hoped they didn’t start staking out her beach rental.

It was a fairly private place, but not as much as the Davenport home. And she wasn’t ready to go there yet. She grinned to herself as she thought about the reason why.

Yeah, she was selfish like that.

But she couldn’t help it. She wanted every last one of those twelve days before she completely returned to her reality.

Up ahead, a bulldozer was clearing out a large space, with another piece of machinery scraping a path around the perimeter. A team of people worked on the amphitheater, which amazingly was already a structure. Sharon had clearly been producing her typical magic. The two of them had worked together in the past, and Cat had known Sharon could be counted on to get the job done.

Cat saw the other woman about one hundred yards off and gave her a wave.

“Mrs. Carlton,” Sharon shouted as she hurried in Cat’s direction a few minutes later. She had one hand on her hard hat to keep it from jostling off. “Good morning. We’ve been busy here. Let me give you a tour.”

“Hi, Sharon,” Cat greeted the other woman as she reached her side, reminding her to call her Cat. They went through this every time. Then they picked up a protective hat for Cat and headed toward the work being done.

As they walked through the site, Cat noticed the reporters push away from the tree. They didn’t get in the construction zone, but they did meander in her direction.

“Have they been out here before today?” she asked, motioning to the group of three men and one woman. She knew there had been reports of the occasional out-of-town reporter milling about, hoping to catch her in town. Most likely wanting to grill her about her father’s supposed mistress. The story was still national news. And the media
still
had no sufficient answers.

“Usually just one or two,” Sharon said. “The local ones. Today must be special.”

“And you didn’t tell them I was coming?” Cat asked with hesitation. She didn’t think Sharon would do that, but it felt like someone had. Then she thought of Thomas Harrison. Her brother had told her that morning that there was now an ad running on the local stations back home. Unsurprisingly, Thomas Harrison was trying to devalue the once strong reputation of the Davenports.

As if he needed to run an ad to do that. Spilling their dirt was effective enough.

But she didn’t know how he would have known she was coming out here.

Was he having her followed?

But that made little sense. What did he think following her would accomplish?

“Of course I didn’t,” Sharon said. “They just showed up, all of them about the same time, as if they’d gotten a memo.”

With Sharon’s words, Cat suddenly knew precisely who had tipped them off. It hadn’t been Thomas Harrison.

It had been her mother.

JP had promised to update their mother after he and Cat got off the phone that morning. Her mother, therefore, would have known that she’d be at the park today.

And her mother would want the world to see her “doing good work.”

Because after the last week and a half of rumors and made-up half truths showing up in the papers every day, Senator Emma Davenport needed some good face time. Even if it was her daughter’s face to do it.

“Right here is where the toddler area will be.” Sharon raised her voice to be heard over the machinery as they stood to the edge of the plot of land where the bulldozer was working. “We’ve got volunteers lined up to come out first thing Monday to construct the toddler playground, and then we’ll start on the main play area. Those parts should be delivered by Wednesday.”

As they’d discussed over the phone, there would be two areas with playground equipment, a knee-deep water feature, a sand volleyball court, and a soccer field. Eventually there would be tennis courts and an outside exercise track, but that would be phase two. The walking path would be created at this point but wouldn’t be paved until later. The most important thing at the moment was to have the basics up and functional for opening day.

“I’m impressed, Sharon. Brilliant work, as always.”

“It’s a pleasure to work for you again,” Sharon stated more formally than Cat would have liked. “And I want to say thank you for giving me the opportunity. To work with the Davenports is always a dream.”

Cat fought not to let her smile slip. This was the problem with doing business as a Davenport. Everyone always felt the need to suck up. She liked
Sharon. The woman was her age, had a couple of kids of her own, and worked hard for everything she’d gotten. Cat could see the two of them being friends.

If only Sharon could see that Cat was just a regular person, too.

A cute older couple whom Cat had seen around town stopped by. They were both about five feet tall and had been strolling around the per
imeter of the area holding hands. Cat couldn’t help but smile.
These two
were normal people. Actually, everyone up here seemed to be normal. She liked it.

“This is a wonderful thing your family is doing, Ms. Carlton,” the woman said. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Delle McCann. This is my husband, Ray.”

“Nice to meet you.” Cat shook both their hands. “And please, call me Cat.”

“Thank you,” Delle said. “Our grandson met you at the museum last week.” Delle’s blue eyes were sharp with humor. “Something about you taking the girls in the class to the restroom.”

“Yes,” Cat said. “I happened to be in the building when the need arose. I helped out.”

“That’s what Dylan said. I think he developed a small crush that day.”

Cat laughed lightly.

“I’ve heard good things about you,” Delle added sincerely. “We saw you out here and wanted to stop by and say hello. Introduce ourselves and thank you for the park.”

“I’m so glad you did, Delle. I hope you and your husband will attend the opening of the amphitheater.” Cat shifted her gaze to Ray McCann. “It’ll be the last night of the play that’s currently running at the Sea Mist.

“We know it,” Ray spoke up. “Good job there, too. We saw you perform last night.”

“Did you?” Cat felt her face heat. Though she’d had a blast being on stage, it was nerve-wracking to think about people watching her, possibly knowing how badly she’d messed up.

“And we wouldn’t miss the opening of the park,” both husband and wife assured her. “Nor would Dylan.” Delle winked, and then the couple went on their way. Cat turned back to Sharon, a happy grin on her face, and was met with the reporters.

“Mrs. Carlton, Frank Billings from the
Boston News
.”

Cat’s smile tightened, and she smoothed a hand over her hair. She nodded at Sharon’s questioning look, letting her know it was okay to head back to the job. Cat could handle this.

“Can you tell us about that kiss you planted on local man Brody Hollister at the end of the play last night?”

Cat paused in surprise. Well, that surely wasn’t what her mother had intended with the reporters. But that kiss had hit the papers. She’d seen it herself before she’d left Brody’s house that morning.

Nothing could be done about it now, though. So she went into action, turning on the charm. “Adrenaline, Mr. Billings.” She gave a teasing wink. “Were you at the play? It was fantastic. Mr. Hollister wrote brilliance, and I got to act it out. I was riding quite a high afterward.”

“So you know him?”

“We’ve been friends for years.” Which was only a white lie.

But at the interest that gleamed in the female reporter’s eyes, Cat realized what she’d done. Shit, she was losing focus. Never give them more than they ask for. Public face 101. She knew better. Only tell them what she wanted them to know.

And they did not need to know that she’d known Brody before.

Not that they’d find anything if they looked into her past. Patricia would never tell anything about the pregnancy or Annabelle.

And Cat’s name hadn’t gone near a birth certificate.

“I wasn’t at the play last night,” Mr. Billings continued, “but if I come tonight, will you lay an adrenaline kiss on me?”

The question was met with laughs all around.

“Are you and Mr. Hollister in a relationship?” This came from the woman.

Cat made direct eye contact with her. “No, ma’am. He’s a good guy, but I have kids to raise.” She motioned behind her, hoping to get them back on topic. “And a park to build.”

“Where are your kids?”

She gave a tight smile. “No worries, my children are fine. They’re enjoying time with their grandparents.”

“There’s a rumor that you and Brody Hollister have been spending a lot of time together. Are you more than friends?”

“And your name is . . . ?” Cat asked.

“Trenton,” the reporter filled in. “Claire Trenton from the
Dyersport Gazette
.”

Cat made sure to keep her posture casual. She could handle these types of questions all day. “It’s a small town, Miss Trenton. Mr. Hollister and I work together in the play. We pass on the street. That’s all there is to it.”

“What about your father’s mistress? Have you met her?” Mr. Billings decided to play hardball. Which, no doubt, was why they were there. “Word is she’s younger than you.”

“Do you know her name?” Claire Trenton pushed.

Cat held her ground. She did not show nerves, and she did not show fear. She showed solidarity with her family. “We miss our father terribly, Mr. Billings. As I’m sure you can understand. These rumors are an ugly thing. It’s a shame he’s not here to defend himself.”

“Story is she was on his presidential campaign.”

Yep. They had the story right.

Her phone rang, and every pair of eyes shifted to her hand.

Her first emotion was relief. She hated this part of her job, and a phone call could excuse her from it. She didn’t lie to people, but she sure as heck skirted the truth. And she didn’t like thinking deep down that was the type of person she was.

Her second emotion was giddy-filled hope. Was it Brody?

She glanced at the screen and her stomach did a flip-flop. It was Brody.

A quick smile appeared before she could control it. She flattened it and held up the phone. “Excuse me. Duty calls.”