Caught in the Act (The Davenports) (19 page)

But not today.

Not when she’d already been through so much. He just wanted to hold her right now.

“Thank you for coming here,” he murmured as they separated. “To the school.”

He brushed a hand over her hair and kissed her forehead. What he left unsaid was that by showing up at the college, people would have seen her on campus. Probably had witnessed her entering the history building. They could put two and two together.

He kissed her again. They wouldn’t stay a secret much longer. He hoped she was prepared for that.

“I was worried I’d have a hard time finding you,” she said into his neck. She’d snuggled tight up against him. Right where he liked her to be. “But then I saw your red car in the parking lot.”

He sighed. “You kill me with that. It is so much more than a red car.”

“Maybe.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But I’ll bet the backseat has never been appropriately broken in.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
HE BACKSEAT HAD
now been broken in.

Cat blew out a breath of air as she pushed off Brody’s chest and sat up, resting her shoulders against the back of his front seats. She stared down at the man between her thighs. He sat bare assed on the uncovered seat, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon.

But it wasn’t a marathon he’d participated in.

Unless there were competitions for quickies.

She grinned at him as she leaned forward and planted one last scorching kiss on his mouth. Their chests were slick with sweat as she rubbed against him. This whole backseat thing had been an excellent idea.

“Your garage isn’t quite the romantic location I’d envisioned for this,” she pointed out.

He chuckled tiredly as his eyes took a slow sweep over her body. “My garage was the only safe place we had.”

Safe from the paparazzi. Yes, she would have to agree. They’d been relentless tonight.

She and Brody were sealed up tight in the small space, sitting in the dark with the top of the car down. They’d left the key in the ignition, adjusting it so the dash provided faint illumination over the space, and if she were to be honest, it was actually kind of romantic.

The instant Brody had turned off the engine, they’d crawled like horny teenagers into the backseat. She’d teased him with the idea all afternoon, and apparently had won him over, no matter how much “abuse” his precious car might take.

They’d stripped articles of clothing from their bodies as they’d fought their way back, and Brody had barely gotten his pants off before Cat pushed him down and climbed on top.

She blew out another breath. “It was fun, though.”

“Oh yeah.”

He dropped his head to the seat back, and she gave one more tiny grind against his lap. His fingers squeezed her hips, but nothing else moved.

“You’ve drained me, Kitty Cat,” he mumbled. He lifted a finger to outline one side of the glasses he’d talked her into wearing for him, then let his hand drop limply by his side. She thought he might fall asleep sitting right there in the stale night air of his garage. “The entire day has,” he added.

She couldn’t argue that point.

The entire day had been exhausting. First was their morning argument. Lots of mental anguish had been expended on both their parts, followed by make-up hugs and kisses at the school—which had
not
led to a secret closet rendezvous, unfortunately. The receptionist had been a wee bit too nosy.

On the heels of making out at the school had been dinner, then the play. Where they’d stood arm in arm afterward, as she’d greeted the crowd.

Of course, the play had once again been a disaster.

Not because of the acting. No one had missed any lines. But because of the paparazzi that had been camped outside. They’d been loud and obnoxious, and some of them had even managed to sneak inside before the last act had completed. They’d been bold. So much so that it had not only created a fire hazard in the small building, but it had taken Cat and Brody an extra forty-five minutes simply to extricate themselves after the show.

It was not good for business, as no person in their right mind would want to be subjected to the craziness of the media circus that had been experienced that night.

Between questions about her father, she and Brody had also taken plenty about themselves. It had become obvious to anyone looking that they were now a couple. Prior to the play, they’d ridden all over town, the top down on his car, as if blatantly declaring a relationship.

Yep. She was full-fledged out in public with her man. And she was okay with that.

She’d talked to the Carltons before leaving the house that morning, filling them in on the latest information to hit the news, and asking them not to let the kids watch anything other than cartoons on the television. She didn’t need Becca and Tyler hearing stories about their grandfather before she got a chance to have a talk with them about it. Which also meant they wouldn’t catch any pictures of her and Brody that might show up before she got a chance to explain that, either.

Assuming there would be something left to explain by the time they got up here.

She still had to tell him about their daughter.

That had been the other major decision to come from her reckoning that morning. As she’d paced every room of her rental, trying to decide how she wanted to go forward in her life, what she’d concluded was, it was
her
life. And she should get to live it her way.

Not only was she tired of jumping through family hoops, but she had a wrong to right. She should have tried harder to tell Brody about her pregnancy.

If not at the time, at least when she’d found out that Annabelle had died.

Or when she’d first seen him again here in Dyersport.

She’d had so many options. So many times she’d failed.

She’d behaved like her mother. Turning a blind eye to what was right. What kept her family “innocent” of any wrongdoing. Because they
had
done Brody wrong.

As she’d sat on his deck before sunrise that morning, she’d known they could be more. She cared about him. How much she cared was too scary to think about at the moment, but she’d like the opportunity to
see
what it was. To determine how much.

In her house later—after she’d unsuccessfully been able to get Bennett back on the phone and had sent her mother a text simply stating, “I’m not coming, I’ll record from Portland”—she’d allowed herself to think about Brody. And she’d known that to truly have the chance she wanted, she had to share their daughter with him.

The more she’d thought about her mother’s phone call to Annabelle Hollister all those years ago, the more Cat realized she’d behaved like her mother far too much in her life. Her mother had crossed the line by stepping between them when she’d known there was a baby at stake.

Cat had crossed that same line by not trying harder to tell Brody the truth.

She’d been carrying his baby. He’d had a right to know.

It was as simple as that.

And now she had to pay for her past.

Brody’s breathing deepened to a steady rhythm, and she caressed his cheek with her fingers. Her big, strong man was asleep in the middle of the backseat of his prized Chevelle after having hot, sweaty sex. Without putting a blanket down first.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

She reached to the front of the car and turned the key in the ignition, sending them into darkness. Then she removed her glasses and snuggled in against him. Her arms went around his waist, and she laid her ear over his heart. Then she, too, tumbled toward sleep.

A single ray of sunlight landed on Brody’s closed eyelids the next morning, forcing him to crack open one eye and look around. That’s when he realized that he wasn’t in his bed.

He was in his car.

With Cat sprawled out across his chest. Completely naked, but still, he was in the backseat of his car.

He shook his head in wonder. The woman had talked him into desecrating his one true love. But then, he couldn’t think of anything else he would rather have been doing last night. Especially after the way she’d shown up at his office, then stuck by his side the rest of the day.

She’d come back to town a changed woman. It had been quite the turn-on.

He opened his eyes wider now, blinking the sleep away, and noticed that the beam of sunlight had slipped in around the edge of the blinds attached to the high, narrow windows. It gave the entire garage a dusty hue, but enough light that he could take in his surroundings.

There were clothes everywhere.

His shirt was slung over the side of the driver’s-side door, her panties dangled from his rearview mirror, and there was . . . he did a double take as he stared at the wadded-up tissue perched carefully on the edge of the seat beside him. He didn’t even want to think about what that might have been used for. Or the fact it was touching his car.

He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. If the sunlight hadn’t woken him, the cramps in his back surely would have. Geez, he was too old to sleep in the backseat of a car.

Last night had been insane. He’d never experienced anything like the madness that had descended on the tiny theater, and honestly, he would be okay going through the rest of his life never experiencing it again. He was not a fan of the utter madness.

But if he wanted to be with Cat . . .

He glanced down at her, still sleeping on his chest, her blonde hair splayed out everywhere.

If he wanted to be with Cat, the media would be a part of it. At least occasionally. And it would not be something he could set limits on. Not the kind of limits he would be able to enforce. He’d have to be okay with that.

For Cat.

For them.

He closed his eyes again. If that’s what it took, he’d do it. Assuming she could get past the Harrison name. And that was still a big assumption on his part. She might have taken a nice first step to independence the day before, but one step did not wipe away a lifetime of training. He simply had to convince her that a name he’d never had anything to do with would not hurt her family.

Emma Davenport could continue hating Thomas Harrison for years to come. Brody being a Harrison wouldn’t matter. Because no one needed to know. And hopefully mortification that her daughter was with a Harrison would be enough to keep Emma Davenport’s mouth shut on the matter.

Cat stirred against his lap, and as she wiggled, his lower body stirred right along with her. God, he couldn’t get enough of this woman. When he opened his eyes this time, a pair of gorgeous blues stared back at him. She yawned behind her hand and shot him a sexy half smile.

Her breasts were naked, her hair had that I’ve-been-loved-well tangle, and she looked as if she might be up for a good-morning round as well. It took everything he had not to dig out another condom.

“Morning,” she muttered.

He winked at her as his heart whispered things he wasn’t quite ready to hear. He had to pull the reins on his emotions fast if the two of them didn’t stand a chance.

“What have I let you do to my car, Kitty Cat?” He had to tell her about Arthur.

“Don’t complain. You enjoyed every minute of it,” she said around another yawn.

He slid his hands to her bare rear and squeezed. “I did. Though I’m not sure I can unbend enough to climb out of here.”

“Tell me about it. I feel like a pretzel.”

He chuckled and leaned forward, searching out her mouth. He slid both hands into her hair and closed his mouth over hers. She was warm and pliant, and she gave as good as she took. It was the kind of kiss he could stand to wake up to every day.

When they separated, she let out a shaky breath and flopped back to his chest as if she’d used up every last ounce of energy she had. One hand inched upward until it reached his jaw, where she simply touched his cheek.

He captured her hand in his. This was perfect. Except for being in the garage.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” she asked.

He tucked his chin in and looked down at her. Where did he start? With the fact that he might just want to keep her? Forever?

Or jump right into the harder issue? That being his Harrison blood.

“You.” He went with option three.

She pushed herself up off his chest. “What about me?” Her eyes remained squinted with sleep.

“You’re tough,” he told her.

“How so?”

“You lost your husband,” he began, “your dad. You’ve been through some rough times.”

She nodded. “There wasn’t any other choice.”

Brody twined their fingers together. “I know you were close with your dad.”

“Yeah. Which makes all of this even harder.” She let out a soft laugh that turned into a sad sigh. “I wish he was here so I could ask him what happened. What went so terribly wrong that he would cheat on my mother after all that time? With a seventeen-year-old.”

Brody rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You think you’d like the answer?”

A bleak look met his and she shook her head. “I’m not naive. But sometimes I wish I was. Dad was a driven man. Like Mom. Driven people enjoy the power that often comes with hard work.” She shrugged. “And power isn’t always used for good.”