Seducing Cat [Meghan's Playhouse Book 1] Page 2

  Meg. How had she ever gotten so carefree? She seemed so comfortable with her body, or possibly even completely unaware of it.

  Caitlin crossed her arms. Nearly twice the young woman’s age, she remained uptight about her body. She was too thin, her hair too red, her breasts too sloping. She was an ugly duckling and always had been. And always would be.

  It wasn’t that Meg was a beauty queen—hardly. Petite and curvy, but hardly the stuff of models. Yet she, at twenty, seemed so much more at ease with what she had, and apparently eager to share it freely with Kurt.

  Meg’s smile captivated most observers. But the sparkle in her eyes mesmerized. That sparkling promise of a good time enticed.

  Caitlin folded her hands over her mouth as if in prayer and breathed into them. If she were younger, Meg would be a delightful drinking buddy. But she wasn’t younger, and she’d never really been into drinking much. She’d been chastised by family members for years for that failing. How could she be so staunchly Irish without being blessed with a robust taste for liquor?

  She brushed fingers lightly across her nipples that were aching to be touched. She pulled on them and bit down on her lower lip. She closed her eyes.

  “Yes, yes come for me.”

  Caitlin’s eyes sprang wide open. She spun around. She blinked. She was still alone.

  She caught her breath and brought a hand to her warm forehead. What was wrong with her? Was she going crazy?

  That had been Meg’s voice. She’d heard those words countless times before when the young woman pled with her lover to join her in climaxing.

  On shaky legs, Caitlin made her way to her desk. Was she turning day into night? The sounds of Kurt working in the yard drifted through the window and she could hear the upstairs shower running. That had to be Meg.

  Had she become the old spinster, teasing herself with seductive images of young lovers coupling and replaying their most private words to titillate her libido?

  When had she stooped to such debauchery? She laughed harshly. She had the audacity to pass judgment on Meg and Kurt?

  * * * *

  Smiling with pride, Kurt stood back, admiring his handiwork. The Mistress of the Mansion had wanted a distinctive gazebo, not a discount special. Well, he’d certainly provided her with that.

  He glanced up toward her office window. He’d swear she’d been standing behind the curtains watching buck-naked Meg fondling his cock through his jeans. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped Meg. How far would Meg have gone? He could never tell; she was as unpredictable as the wind currents on Lake Michigan .

  On the other hand, Madam Caitlin Shanahan rarely surprised. Meg fit his image of the Irish siren, dancing to a beat only she could hear. Shanahan’s Irish blood probably never overheated. What would she be like, if she ever did cut loose?

  He shrugged. No sense letting his imagination get away from him. If she ever did display a free spirit, it wouldn’t be around him.

  That suited him fine. He didn’t have time for uppity, serious women. He knew his place in life. He’d never been handed anything on a silver platter, and he didn’t expect that to change anytime soon.

  Too bad Shanahan had beat him to this house. The Mulberry house had always been one of his favorites. He’d hoped to be in a position to buy it one day. That day had been several years off when he’d heard that the English professor had bought it. What the hell did a single woman want with a big old house? Not that he had a passel of kids to fill up the place, either.

  At least he had the joy of helping bring the old house back to life. It would take time and a fair amount of money, some of which would go into his bank account. He nodded at the house. Yeah, he could handle a lot of aloofness if it meant that money would be transferred from the rich bitch to him.

  He scowled. He didn’t actually know if Shanahan was rich or not. It had surprised him when the first thing she’d wanted done to the house was to partition it so she could rent most of the upstairs. Then he’d absolutely been shocked to discover that Meg had rented the apartment.

  Jesus. What was Meg doing? He’d known all along that she was bi. That had never bothered him before, but then she’d never tried to involve him in her liaisons with women, either. He didn’t think there had been any women in the last several months.

  And here she was setting out to seduce a professor. Shit. For Meg, it was an adventure. She’d give her all and not hold anything back. But there’d be no commitment. With Meg there never was, and that was okay with him.

  He started returning tools to the tool shed. How would the snooty professor respond to Meg’s overtures? Would she even acknowledge them? He whistled a soft tune. I’ll put my money on Meg.

  What would the tall redhead do when Meg frolicked on to a new adventure? It wasn’t that Meg ever set out to hurt anyone. She just couldn’t understand that some people were looking for more than great sex, a good time, and a novel challenge.

  He locked the tool shed and headed for the house. Whatever Meg planned for Professor Shanahan, he couldn’t stop her, but he sure as hell wasn’t getting involved, either. Hell would freeze over before he’d fuck as judgmental a bitch as Shanahan. She’d probably have to evaluate his cock—length, width and circumference—before ever allowing it to enter her precious body.

  It wouldn’t measure up. He’d let his guard down once with a classy woman. She’d gotten what she wanted—a rendezvous with a working class guy. He’d fucked her good. Then when she was satisfied, she’d kicked him out on his ass accompanied with a biting tongue lashing.

  Never again! Girding himself, he rang Shanahan’s doorbell.

  * * * *

  Caitlin opened the backdoor halfway, not surprised to find Kurt Davis standing there with his work shirt straining across his chest. He was about the only person who ever used the back entrance.

  She tried not to scowl. She hadn’t spoken a word, yet he already looked angry with her. Would he ever relax around her? Would she ever relax around him?

  “Yes?” She smoothed out her expression. “Come in.”

  He stepped into the entryway leading to the kitchen without bothering to remove his cap.

  “The gazebo looks beautiful.” Maybe a little praise would help. “It’s just what I’d hoped for.”

  “Good. That’s what you pay me for. With that gazebo done, I’m ready to begin on the staircase, if that’s what you’d like next.”

  “Of course.” She’d wondered how long before he’d tackle that project. He’d seemed undaunted by her request to redo the stairs. “That would be lovely.”

  “There will be a considerable amount of dust.” He narrowed his dark eyes and she stood her ground before his evident disdain. “I hope that won’t bother you too much, but I’m not a magician.”

  “No, I suppose you’re not.” She sighed heavily, not looking forward to the disruption he would make in her day to day routines. Dust was the least of her concerns. “How long do you think the staircase will take?”

  He shrugged as if the question made no sense. “Depends on what I find when I begin stripping. I expect a lot of wood will need replacing. Wouldn’t be surprised if we find a fair amount of dry rot. This old house was built to last, but it has been neglected far too long.”

  She’d struggled to hold back a smile when he’d talked about stripping; she didn’t think he’d find her sense of humor gratifying. “I am trying to make up for the neglect.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” His features softened. “You love this house a lot, to take it on the way you have. None of this is cheap.” He chuckled. “I should know.”

  “I’m not complaining. You came highly recommended.” She flashed an eyebrow. “I trust you’re not duping me. If my money runs out, I’ll have to wait on more repairs. But for now, we can continue.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll be ready to begin at eight o’clock tomorrow, if that’s not too early.”

  “No, that’s fine. I’m an early riser.”

  His dark eyes clouded. “I’ve noticed.” Without another word he turned about and left her standing alone.

  She waited for him to get in his truck and drive off before she ventured out for a closer view of her new gazebo.

  She smiled broadly as she took the steps leading to the gazebo floor. It was exactly as she’d imagined, large enough for entertaining a few people, if she ever got into entertaining, yet small enough to still be cozy.

  She ran her fingers across the smooth oak surface. Kurt had done a painstaking job of sanding the wood to highlight its lustrous grain. She’d watched him from her upstairs window and knew he’d taken great care with the wood.

  Is he as sensitive with his women?

  Caitlin covered her mouth. Where had that thought come from?

  She twirled about the gazebo, enjoying the freedom the inviting space offered. Her long flowing skirt floated and settled.

  It was okay to let her mind wander some. She doubted he was as brutish as she wanted to believe. He was proving to be an artist with wood, and Meg wouldn’t put up with a man who’d ever try to rein in her spirit.

  She flashed on the image of Meg tanning in the nude and then Kurt kneading the girl’s bare rear like he was making bread. Didn’t the woman have any compunctions?

  Probably not.

  Caitlin rested her elbows on the gazebo windowsill and stared back at her house. There was a part of her—a tiny part—that was envious of Meg’s will-o’-the-wisp approach to life.

  Maybe if she’d been a little less restrained, Roy would’ve gone through with their marriage. She’d been so elated when he’d proposed, and then so totally devastated two months later when he’d asked for his ring back. Apparently, he’d found another finger that fit it better than hers.

  She’d even b
een willing to move to Chicago for him. She shook her head. Not any more. This was her house and she was intent on turning it into the kind of home she’d always wanted: tasteful, comfortable, inviting.

  It was a large house for only one person. She tilted her head to the side. Maybe that would change, yet. She wasn’t that old. Not really.

  Her next renter would have to be more mature. Being bombarded by Meg’s enthusiasm made her feel too old. She grinned suddenly. There were fleeting moments when the faerie sprite actually made her feel very young and willing once again to risk taking on the world.

  That couldn’t all be bad.

  Caitlin inhaled deeply and stretched. She loved nothing more than lounging in her gazebo contemplating how she might embrace her changing world, but reality imposed its schedules and deadlines without remorse. Caitlin shrugged and headed back toward her office

  Seducing Cat [Meghan's Playhouse Book 1]

  Chapter 2

  Hurrying down the sidewalk from the parking lot outside the theater, Caitlin grinned with the sudden awareness of a light bounce in her step. It was Wednesday evening, and she looked forward to rehearsing her latest play.

  Adding the Community Playhouse to her life had been a superb choice. It took up a lot of time, but she never felt more alive than when she watched the work she’d labored so long to get on a page actually come to life under the skill of talented actors and actresses. Well, some were more talented than others.

  She entered the theater building and took a deep breath. The mixture of paints, freshly sawn wood, slightly musty clothing, and perspiration mingled to tease her senses. She loved the theater. In her youth, it had been a place that drew her out of her shell. Now, it was a venue for putting on display her feelings and her imagination.

  “You’re late.”

  She stopped short and gawked at the owner of the offending voice. Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I totally forgot we were going to get together before rehearsal to go over set designs.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know it’s the actors that matter to you. But they do need a set to work on.”

  “I know,” she said, scurrying to the safety of her tiny office near the concession stand. She heard the echoes of his heavy steps following her on the wood floor. Escaping his wrath wasn’t going to be that easy.

  She stepped into the office and placed her book bag on the marred wooden desk.

  “When can we meet?” He bristled like a tomcat preparing for a fight.

  “I have to help with the rehearsal. I am sorry. I won’t be late next time.”

  He nodded. “I hope not. I’m a volunteer here, you know.”

  “It’s not like I’m getting paid a hell of a lot,” she blurted out before realizing he was deliberately provoking her. “There may be time after rehearsal. Or we can meet before Friday’s practice?

  “Sure, why not?” His shoulders shrugged with heavy disdain. “I’ll hang around after. I’ve got plenty to get started on anyway. We’ll see what happens. If not tonight, then Friday.”

  * * * *

  Throughout the ensuing rehearsal, Caitlin never felt at the top of her game. Her clash with Kurt Davis had spoiled her concentration and her evening.

  How could she be so stupid as to forget their meeting? She didn’t have a lot of extra capital with the man, and he was right. He did do good work for the theater, and he was a volunteer.

  She smiled at the cast coming to the front of the stage giving mock bows. Few actors required much practice when it came to taking bows and accepting applause. Meg stood in the middle of the line beaming her appreciation to a non-existent audience.

  Caitlin applauded enthusiastically. She was at least an audience of one. “Very good,” she shouted. “Until Friday. Work as much on enunciating as memorizing. Use your mirrors at home. Practice. Practice. Practice.” She waved and retreated to her office.

  It took longer than she’d planned to put away books, pamphlets, and possible plays she wanted to read but hadn’t gotten around to. Then Betsy Franklin had stopped by to complain about how her role had shrunk.

  That’s the way it was. Plays took on a life of their own when you saw them take shape on a stage. She never could guarantee that an actor’s part would be the same at the end of rehearsals as it was at the beginning.

  Betsy had gone away mollified by words of praise. She was a woman with some talent, but she swallowed the ends of her words too frequently.

  Caitlin locked the office door and headed back toward the stage to find Kurt so they could at last discuss set design. He’d probably given up on her by now and gone home.

  He wasn’t working on the set. The entire building was quiet. She loved the silence of a theater nearly as much as the laughter and applause of the crowd. The green room door stood open and beams of soft light spilled into the hallway. She made her way in that direction.

  She stepped through the doorway and quickly backed up into the shadows. What the…she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “That feels so decadent, Kurt.”

  Meg’s voice, heavy with desire, assaulted Caitlin’s ears. Kurt’s shoulders were bent low over the slight woman as he suckled a breast. Meg stood on her tiptoes; her hands were stuffed down the back of Kurt’s jeans.

  Neither of the lovers sensed her presence. Caitlin’s lungs tightened. Kurt smacked his lips loudly. Caitlin’s toes curled when she saw him bite down on Meg’s nipple and tug at it with his teeth.

  “Wow,” Meg chirped. “Do that again. You have me so blazing I’m not sure how long I can stand it.”

  Kurt did as she asked. “We’re the only ones left in the playhouse,” she moaned. “I can’t wait. At least bring me off with your fingers.” She slid her hands out of his pants and began to unzip her jeans.

  “Whoa,” Caitlin hissed, stepping into the light. “Can’t you two wait at least until you get home?”

  Kurt turned slowly to smirk at her. Meg shifted around to stand in front of him. She didn’t bother to cover her bare breasts. At least she didn’t lower her jeans zipper any further.

  “Cat,” Meg said, grinning easily. “We thought you’d left by now.”

  “Apparently,” she huffed in response. “As you can see, I haven’t.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of Meg’s elongating nipples. They were even longer now than when Kurt had been playing with them.

  “Is there anything else we can do for you?” Meg folded her hands neatly at her waist. If Meg’s smile grew any larger, she might have to be fitted for a halo.

  Caitlin knew she wasn’t looking at any angel. Angels didn’t display their naked breasts like it was an everyday thing to have them stared at and admired.

  Caitlin swallowed and frowned, trying to ignore the ache in her own breasts. She shook her head frantically. “No. But we will have to talk about this later, young lady. I can’t have the two of you frolicking about here like this is some sort of private love nest.”

  Spinning about on her heel, Caitlin didn’t wait for a reply. Even so, she couldn’t avoid hearing Meg’s giggles, or Meg’s question to Kurt: “I guess I’m in trouble now. Do you suppose she’s going to spank me?”

  “Don’t you wish?” Kurt growled.

  Good they couldn’t see her reaction in a mirror. She must look horrified, if not mortified. Spank her? She’d never hit anyone in her life.

  Caitlin scurried down the dark hallway toward the exit trying to ignore the picture emblazoned in her brain of Meg’s enticing bare rump as she lay tanning on the sundeck.

  * * * *

  Frustrated beyond words, Caitlin stood in the kitchen the next morning strumming her fingers on the counter. Where the hell was he? Contractors! Kurt Davis! She’d had about enough of both. She rechecked the wall clock. Damn, she had to leave in fifteen minutes or she’d be late for class. And she was never late.

  At that moment, Meg bounded through the back door. There were advantages to sharing the kitchen. Both of them saved on grocery money and occasionally they cooked for each other. But there were disadvantages, and this was one of them. She didn’t have the time or the intestinal fortitude to confront Meg’s enthusiasm.

  “Hi,” Meg said, skidding to a halt. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”