Page 27 of Courting Catherine
His tie and shoes were gone, his hair mussed, and there was a streak of damp down his linen shirt.
The tug on her heart was slow and tender and very real. Why, he looked... sweet, she thought, then immediately jammed her hands into her pockets. That was absurd. A man like Trent was never sweet.
Maybe the kids had knocked him unconscious, she mused, and leaned over him. He opened his eyes, stared up at her for a moment, then made some kind of sleepy noise deep in his throat.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’m not completely sure.” He lifted his head and looked around. Jenny was tucked into the curve of his arm, and Alex was down for the count on the other side. “But I think I’m the only survivor.”
“Where’s Aunt Coco?”
“Running a few errands. I’m keeping my eye on the kids.”
She lifted a brow. “Oh, I can see that.”
“I’m afraid there was a major battle, and many lives were lost.”
C.C.’s lips twitched as she went to Alex’s bed for a blanket.
“Who won?”
“Jenny claimed victory.” Gently he slipped his arm out from under her head. “Though Alex will disagree.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“What should we do with them?”
“Oh, we’ll keep them, I suppose.”
He grinned back at her. “No, I meant should they be put in bed or something?”
“No.” Expertly she flipped open the blanket and spread it over both of them where they lay. “They’ll be fine.” She had a ridiculous urge to slip an arm around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder. She squashed it ruthlessly. “It was nice of you to offer to look after them.”
“I didn’t offer precisely. I was dragooned.”
“It was still nice of you.”
He caught up with her at the door. “I could use a cup of coffee.”
C.C. hesitated only a moment. “All right. I’ll fix it. It looks like you’ve earned it.” She flicked a glance over her shoulder as she started down the stairs. “How’d your shirt get wet?”
“Oh.” He brushed a hand over it, faintly embarrassed. “A direct hit with a death ray disguised as a water pistol. So, how was your day?”
“Not nearly as adventurous as yours.” She turned into the kitchen and went directly to the stove. “I only rebuilt an engine.”
When the coffee was started, she moved over to light a fire in the kitchen hearth. She had rain in her hair, Trent noticed. He wasn’t a lyrical man, but he found himself thinking that the droplets of water looked like a shower of diamonds against the glossy cap.
He’d always preferred women with long hair, he reminded himself. Feminine, soft, wavy. And yet... the style suited C.C., showing off her slender neck, perfectly framing that glorious white skin.
“What are you staring at?”
He blinked, shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry, I was just thinking. It’s ah... there’s something comforting about a fire in the kitchen.”
“Hmm.” He looked weird, she thought. Maybe it was the lack of a tie. “Do you want milk in your coffee?”
“No, black.”
Her arm brushed his as she walked to the stove. This time it was he who stepped back. “Did Aunt Coco say where she was going?”
