Page 56 of Courting Catherine
“I know.”
When the car was settled, she took a rag and wiped her hands, keeping her eyes on them. “Amanda’s handling the details. She’s at the BayWatch if you need to discuss anything.”
“What I need to discuss concerns you. Us.”
She looked up, then took a quick step back when she realized he’d moved over to stand next to her. “I really don’t have anything else to say to you.”
“Okay, then I’ll do the talking. In just a minute.”
He moved fast. Still, she was certain if she’d been expecting it, she could have evaded him. She wasn’t certain she would have tried.
It felt so good, so right, to have his mouth covering hers, his hands framing her face. Her pride faltered long enough to have her reaching up to grasp his wrists, holding on as she let her needs flow into the kiss.
“I’ve thought about doing that for three and a half weeks,” he murmured.
She squeezed her eyes tight. “Go away, Trent.”
“Catherine—”
“Damn you, I said go away.” She yanked free, then turned to brace her palms on the bench. “I hate you for coming here, for making a fool out of me again.”
“You’re not the fool. You never were.”
When his hand brushed lightly over her shoulder, she snatched up a hammer and whirled. “If you touch me again, so help me, I’ll break your nose.”
He looked at her. The fire was in her eyes again. “Thank God. You’re back.” Delighted but cautious, he held up a hand. “Just listen, please. Business first.”
“My business with you is settled.”
“There’s been a change in the plans.” He plucked some change out of the can on the bench. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No. Say what you have to say, then get out.”
With a shrug, he strolled over to the soft drink machine and plugged in the change. It was then that C.C. noticed he was wearing scuffed high-tops.
“What are those?” she asked, staring at them.
“These?” Trent grinned as he popped the top on the can. “New shoes. What do you think?” When she simply gaped, he took a long drink. “I know, not quite the usual image, but things change. A number of things have changed. Would you mind putting down that hammer?”
“What? Oh. All right.” She set it aside. “You said plans had changed. Does that mean you’ve decided not to buy The Towers?”
“Yes and no. Would you rather go into the office to discuss this?”
“Damn it, Trent, just tell me what’s going on.”
“All right. Here’s the deal. We take one wing, the west, I think, so it doesn’t involve Bianca’s tower. We have it extensively remodeled. My preference is to salvage as much of the original material as possible and reconstruct, whenever possible, according with the original blueprints. It should maintain its turn-of-the-century feel. That will be part of the draw.”
“The draw?” she repeated, lost.
“We can easily have ten suites without compromising the architecture. If memory serves, the billiard room would be excellent for dining, with the west tower remodeled for more intimate meals and private parties.”
“Ten suites?”
“In the west wing,” he agreed. “With an accent on aesthetics and intimacy. We’ll have to put all the fireplaces back in working order. I think, with what we’ll offer, we’ll have year-round clientele rather than just seasonal.”
“What are you going to do with the rest of the house?”
“That would be up to you, and your family.” He set the drink aside and came toward her. “The way I see it, you could live very easily on the first two floors and the east wing. God knows there’s plenty of room.”
